


Exton Mess

by Applesandbannas747



Series: Sure as Sweets [2]
Category: Fence (Comics)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23029654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Applesandbannas747/pseuds/Applesandbannas747
Summary: Eugene makes an excellent Eton mess, much to his chagrin, and he can't for the life of him imagine making it again. But he does. He could never have guessed why he'd make it, whom he'd make it for, or what he was signing up for when he did, but Eugene does. And, as it turns out, Eton mess isn't so terrible a recipe to know, really.
Relationships: Eugene Labao/Jesse Coste
Series: Sure as Sweets [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655152
Comments: 122
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically this is a companion/spin-off fic to _Are You Sure?_ but you don't actually need to have read that to pick up on things in this fic. There might be one or two spots where we reference something from it but, like, you won't actually miss anything by skipping that one if you want

Eugene didn’t believe in feeling like a third wheel. Especially when the wagon he was hitched to was one he’d predicted ages before he was officially told about it. Maybe even before _they_ were officially told about it, truthfully. The fountain at the mall was all dazzling and pretty and undeniably romantic in the darkening sky and twinkling stars. It was a common date spot. But Eugene didn’t feel like he was interrupting Nick and Seiji’s date. It was their fault for being nearly inseparable—Eugene liked both of them and didn’t plan on losing his friendships with them just because they were too busy with each other to bother hanging out anymore. And, technically, Nick had agreed to come bum around with Eugene tonight and had brought Seiji along. Eugene didn’t mind, but it was all the more reason that he didn’t believe in feeling like a third wheel to their love fest even if anyone else would have.

“Bobby’s signing up for another baking class,” Nick said as if this was new information at all. It wasn’t. Bobby had been gushing about it for the three days since the class had become available and he’d signed on for it. “Think they’ll let us back in for the group nights?”

“After the cake sculptures?” Eugene snorted. “I’d be impressed if they do.”

“We gonna try?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Assuming Bobby has the poor sense to invite either of you along.” Seiji was generally of the opinion that Eugene and Nick were menaces to society, specifically when they were allowed out together. He wasn’t wrong.

“Bobby loves us,” Eugene said.

“He’ll invite us. You should come to one, Seiji, they’re really fun.”

“Seiji making cake, that’s a sight I’d like to see.”

“Almost as funny as you making that froo-froo dessert. Fuck, what was it again?” Nick asked, grinning. “Exton mess?”

“That’s a school, moron, not a dessert.”

Nick didn’t even wince at Seiji’s mocking retort.

“Fucking _Eton mess,”_ Eugene corrected. “I still don’t understand what the point of learning to make that shit was. Like, milkshakes and cakes and cookies are all normal, classic desserts. Eton mess is so fucking pretentious, when would I ever pull that out?” He doused his words in a pompous affectation, “ _Here, would you like to try my extraordinarily fancy strawberries and whipped cream? We call it Eton mess because we’re too fancy to say real words._ Like, for real, I’ll never make that again.”

Nick laughed appreciatively. Then he shrugged. “You could seduce some lucky guy with your delicious Eton mess,” he suggested. For some reason, that got him a glare from Seiji. Eugene wondered what sweet Nick had seduced _him_ with.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna find someone that can be seduced with Eton mess that I actually want to seduce. Where do you suggest I even find a person like that? I somehow feel like the Venn Diagram of people that like Eton mess and people that are my type are two completely different circles.”

“What’s your type, then?” The question hadn’t come from Nick. It hadn’t come from Seiji, either. Eugene looked to his other side and found the boy the question had come out of. Blond hair, blue eyes, superior smirk, and a sweater tied around his shoulders like a trust fund baby.

“Was I talking to you?” Eugene asked, sure that the question had been for him. The boy was completely alone.

“No. But I was listening.”

Eugene had to hand it to the guy, he had some nerve. Though that had already been evident in the fact that he could wear a sweater like _that_ and still think he was superior. Eugene looked him over again and realized with some surprise that he recognized this boy. This fountain was so out of context that he hadn’t placed him right away, but his brain had finally matched the stupidly cut blond hair, the icy blue eyes, and the self-important smirk to none other than Jesse Coste.

“And I was curious. What _is_ your type?” Coste asked.

It was anyone’s guess what he was doing here alone on a Saturday night. It seemed unlikely he’d been stood up, Jesse Coste wasn’t the sort of boy that got stood up. Rich and talented and attractive insofar as rich white boys with blond hair and blue eyes all were. And if he wasn’t here getting stood up for a date, he was here for something else. Eugene looked him over again and didn’t bother hiding it.

“Blonds,” Eugene said decisively. Not strictly true but not completely untrue, either. “With pretty blue eyes and long legs.”

Coste’s smirk ticked up another degree, pleased with Eugene’s answer.

“I heard you make a great Eton mess.”

“I do. You like the dish?”

“It’s a favorite of mine.”

“Then let me make it for you sometime,” Eugene offered, smirk matching Coste’s now.

“I’m free tonight,” he returned smoothly.

“Bummer, I’ve actually got plans with my guys tonight.” A hand over his shoulder indicated what guys he was talking about. Coste narrowed his eyes.

“How unfortunate. I’ve got an incredibly busy schedule. Tonight works best for me.”

“Doesn’t work for me,” Eugene repeated. Coste’s smirk had vanished but Eugene’s hadn’t. “Can I get a raincheck?”

“No,” Coste said coldly, standing up. “And you can’t get a number either. I only give one shot.”

“Ah,” Eugene nodded like this made perfect and reasonable sense. “Well, maybe someday you’ll get to try my Eton mess.”

“Unlikely.”

There was complete silence until Jesse Coste had ascended the stairs and was well out of sight and earshot.

“Dude,” Nick said, clearly a little shocked to have run into his rival for Seiji’s rivalry, but hiding it well. “You could have ditched us. For—you know. We wouldn’t have held it against you.”

“It would have served you right,” Eugene agreed, “with all the times you two have ditched the rest of us to get it on. But he could do with a reality check. I’m not about to drop everything just because Jesse Coste was looking to get it on. Wouldn’t want him to think he’s that hot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as a oneshot. As in, I wrote this chapter and then left it, thinking it was finished. Like an implied/future relationship fic, yknow? But then I remembered that I don’t actually like those fics because I want to see them actually BE together and I want to see it happen. And, since I’m the poor asshole who wrote this story, I am subject to my own wants and whims and ended up writing a whole fucking fic. Are we surprised? Literally not at all.
> 
> Further notes: I've got a schedule that needs to be kept but, in an effort to not spam the shit out of all you lovely people and our little corner of AO3, updates for this will be weekly so, until and unless we need to readjust the schedule, you can expect this every 6 to 8 days. 
> 
> Lastly, if you didn't already know, Jesse's favorite food is Eton mess and I can prove it:  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

“I can’t believe he really didn’t recognize any of us,” Nick said, even more amused by it all today than he had been last night. “I mean, I _guess_ he only fenced us the once, but Seiji? How’d he miss his biggest rival sitting basically right in front of him?”

Eugene thought it was big of Nick to say that without even grimacing _that_ much. He didn’t miss the wording, though. Nick had said Seiji was _Jesse Coste’s_ biggest rival—he’d said nothing about _Seiji’s_ rival. Seiji hadn’t missed that little trick, either, judging by his fond eye roll at his boyfriend.

“Jesse’s somewhat self-centered,” he said mildly. Eugene had never been able to suss out if Seiji actually knew Coste in any personal capacity or if he’d just picked up on his personality from fencing him so often.

“Or maybe,” Eugene offered up a grin, “he just only had eyes for me.”

“Of course he only had eyes for you.” Seiji’s agreement wasn’t something Eugene had expected. “He wanted _you_ , I doubt he even glanced at who you were with. His single-minded determination for nothing but his own self-interest has a habit of blinding him to everyone and everything else in the universe in my experience. He won’t be happy he didn’t get what he wanted last night.”

“No kidding! Did you see his face when Eugene turned him down?”

“Yeah,” a smirk crept onto Eugene’s face as he got over his shock from Seiji actually agreeing with him and remembered, instead, Coste’s sour surprise at his gentle rejection by the fountain. “I doubt he’s used to being told no. Seeing his face was well worth the loss. Fucking priceless.”

“He’ll be at regionals tomorrow, right? Think he’ll recognize you?” Nick wondered.

As it turned out, he did. It became obvious by the way Coste’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened when he spotted Eugene. If Eugene hadn’t been standing with Seiji, the obvious biggest competitor besides Coste himself, Eugene probably wouldn’t have been spotted at all. It made sense that Coste would be checking Seiji out, though. Eugene wasn’t even competing and didn’t warrant so much as a passing glance. Thanks to his friendship with Seiji, he got one anyway, and Coste didn’t look happy to see him.

“Oh my god,” Nick said, “is he coming over here?”

“What’s he doing that for?” Eugene asked because Coste was, indeed, coming over here.

“Must be for you,” Seiji was having a laugh, Eugene wasn’t fooled by his bland expression. “He never deigns to talk with his opponents before he fences them.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Nick elbowed Seiji playfully. “Anyway, have fun with that, Eugene. I’m gonna steal Seiji before his match.”

“What? You’re gonna abandon me to Jesse Coste?”

“Maybe you can get those benefits you gave up the other night.”

“I doubt it,” Eugene mumbled, eyeing Coste’s progress across the floor.

“Good luck.” Nick clapped him on the back, then grabbed Seiji’s hand and tugged him away. Off to find a closet to make out in, probably. What else was new?

“You fence, don’t you?” Coste demanded. Seiji had been right—he’d definitely come over for Eugene.

“Sure do. Seeing me in context jog your memory?”

Coste looked up to the ceiling like he was asking the good lord for help and patience, his smile somehow perfectly blending condescension and disbelief.

“I cannot _believe_ you know who I am and you _still_ requested a raincheck.”

“You came all the way over here to tell me that I’m _extra_ stupid for turning down a night with you because I know that you’re Golden Boy Jesse Coste, as opposed to some random boy with a pretty face?”

“You must admit that it was a rare opportunity, especially so since you’re a fencer. I don’t sleep with other fencers. If I’d known you were on the scene, I never would have bothered with you in the first place. I don’t like having to see any of you again, following me around like begging puppies, heartbroken and wanting more. It’s pathetic and tiresome. But you got a chance with me anyway and you threw it away. Practically any boy here would do anything to have been given that chance, you realize that, don’t you? How completely stupid you were to ask for a _raincheck_ from me?”

Eugene laughed incredulously. “Wow. You’re really something else, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Coste said, eyes nothing but icy slits. “Something most people can only aspire to. A cut above the rest.”

“If you’re so offended, I could make it up to you,” Eugene offered, deciding to find Coste’s ego funny instead of annoying. “I’m free tonight.”

“As if,” Coste scoffed. “Didn’t you hear, I don’t make a habit of bringing fencers to bed if I can help it. _And_ I don’t give second chances. Ever.”

“Let me guess, second chances are beneath you. Gotta have the first in everything, even in chances.”

Eugene laughed again. He hadn’t been under any disillusion that he’d be getting lucky with Jesse Coste, but it had been too funny to resist asking.

“Your loss.”

Eugene clapped a hand to his chest as if in agony. “One I will mourn for the rest of my days,” he swore solemnly.

Coste made his exit with a dramatic huff. And that was the end of it. Coste was gorgeous, if a little predictably and generically so, and Eugene wouldn’t necessarily have minded getting him in bed, but he wasn’t really hurting for the loss. It had been a fun time, even if it hadn’t been a _fun_ time, and Eugene was satisfied with how things had ended. It was unlikely Coste would feel the need to seek him out and tell him off again now that he’d had his chance to explain to Eugene how stupid he was for passing up on a night with such an impressive prize, and that suited Eugene just fine. He was happily and officially done with the chapter in his life that involved Jesse Coste.


	3. Chapter 3

Eugene hooted a victory call. Bobby was shrieking beside him, Harvard was clapping loudly, smile proud, and even Aiden looked impressed and pleased.

And Nick…Well, Nick was on the strip the second Seiji was finished shaking Coste’s hand. Eugene whooped again, laughing as he watched Nick scoop Seiji up—impressive; Seiji wasn’t easily scooped—and plant a kiss on him just like that. Even more impressive than the scooping—and pretty damn surprising—Seiji let his mask clatter to the ground and grabbed Nick’s face, kissing him with enthusiasm right there on the strip. When he finally pulled away from Nick, Seiji’s smile was so dazzling, even Eugene felt the impact.

Seiji stepped off the strip, hand-in-hand with Nick, to a slew of enthusiastic congratulations, all of which he actually endured well.

“I’ll get you next year,” Nick said to cheery laughter, light and good-humored so as not to take away from Seiji’s moment, but they all knew he meant it. Nick could kiss Seiji sweetly on the cheek and still mean to beat him soon. And Seiji might have something to be worried about; Nick had made it impressively far already this year. Had taken his loss extremely well, all things considered. Eugene thought it had something to do with how much Nick cared about Seiji—being happy for his boyfriend was better consolation than having nothing but your loss to think of. Speaking of…

Eugene’s eyes slipped past his celebrating friends to Jesse Coste on the other side of the strip. _He_ didn’t seem to be taking the loss well. No surprises there. But Eugene’s eyes snagged further, landing on a familiar mask, which had rolled off the strip in the opposite direction of its owner. Eugene was amazed Seiji had forgotten it. It was a big, exciting day, though, so Eugene cut him some slack. He even went to retrieve the wayward mask himself because he was a team player like that.

No one paid him any mind, and as he stooped down to pick up Seiji’s abandoned mask, he caught a snippet of the unhappy conversation between the fallen champion and his coach.

“Go back to the hotel for tonight,” Robert Coste said, sounding out of patience. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“But, Dad—,”

“Enough.” With that, Robert strode out of the hall, leaving his son to stew, abandoned and biting his tongue.

Jesse wasn’t alone for long. As Eugene lingered, Jesse’s troop of friends joined him, offering congratulations and condolences. Eugene was preparing to leave and head back over to his own friends, but Robert’s acerbic tone was mimicked in Jesse’s when he spoke.

“Leave me be,” he snapped contemptuously. “I’m not in the mood for you imbeciles right now.” There was a pause, unsure and stunned. “Leave!” Jesse exploded. The group scattered. As soon as they were all gone, Jesse’s composure slipped for a moment, showing something raw and miserable. Anger and grief were clear in Jesse’s countenance and the brisk movements he used as he readied to leave. To head to his hotel room, presumably.

“Yo, Seiji!” Eugene shouted, nabbing Seiji’s attention and hefting the mask. “Catch!” Lobbing the mask across the strip, Eugene hardly bothered to make sure Seiji caught the thing—though he _did_ get an eyeful of Seiji’s surprise before turning to other things.

“Buffoon,” Jesse muttered under his breath. Eugene suspected he’d been meant to hear it. Jesse was letting off steam by lashing out. Classic.

“I might be a buffoon,” Eugene said, strolling up to Jesse, still packing his things with aggression. “But I’m a buffoon that can bake. I never did get to make you my award-winning Eton mess.”

Jesse spun on him, taking on a malicious amusement. “And why do you think I’m in any sort of mood to do anything with _you?_ It’s pathetic of you to come sniffing around for scraps right now, not to mention low. But I haven’t sunk low enough to give you what you’ve decided you want.”

“Bro,” Eugene matched Jesse’s mocking condescension. “I don’t want a damn thing from you. I offered to make you dessert, not to make you mine.”

Jesse flushed. “And why the fuck would you want to do that?”

“Because you shouldn’t be alone after such a big blow and you’ve scared off all your real friends. So you get me and a sweet treat for comfort.” Eugene thought of Robert’s sour exit, his attention straying to the door Robert had blown out of like a winter storm. “It doesn’t look like you’re going to get it anywhere else.”

Jesse looked unconvinced. He also looked offended at being spoken to so bluntly. Eugene saw his friends, as enthused and excited as Jesse was dour and seething. Eugene should be over there with them. But Jesse wasn’t only dour and seething, he was also forlorn and solitary, even as Eugene stood right next to him. So Eugene gave it one last try.

“Come on. You could use some comfort food.”

Jesse hesitated. “You really know how to make Eton mess?” He gave in and asked.

“Man, would I lie about knowing how to make something called _Eton mess?_ Get some street cred from that froofy ass treat?”

Jesse _almost_ smiled a regular, sincere smile.

“That _froofy ass treat_ is my favorite. Don’t let me down.”

So Eugene found himself in an Uber with Jesse Coste. And then in a hotel room, room service on the way with everything Eugene needed to make the pretentious strawberry dish.

“I’ve got to take a shower,” Jesse said, disappearing into the bedroom as he spoke. “Because of the fencing,” he clarified. “So don’t get your hopes up.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Room service knocked on the door while Jesse’s shower still beat heavily in the other room, so Eugene accepted the tray of ingredients himself.

It was amazing, really, how nice this room was. How big it was. How it was all for Jesse. But it seemed more lonely than anything else to Eugene just then. He thought of the small and modest room his team had booked to come see Seiji win, loud and cramped and fun.

“Smells good,” Jesse said.

Eugene looked up from his work and saw that Jesse’s hair gleamed with dampness. He’d changed into sweats and a t-shirt. Even in such simple attire, he looked tempting.

“Man, it’s almost done. How long do you really need in the shower?”

“You’re lucky I didn’t take a bubble bath instead,” Jesse smiled slyly. So at least he knew he took a ludicrous amount of time in the shower.

“This place has a tub?”

Jesse nodded. “It’s huge too. That’s almost done?”

“I just said it was, didn’t I?”

“All right.” Jesse’s impatience was laughable.

He lifted himself onto a section of counter in the kitchen. Entirely in the way, but given the size of the kitchen, Eugene could work around him easily enough, so he didn’t shoo Jesse away. He’d have felt bad doing so after the day Jesse had had.

“So,” Eugene started. Jesse’s shoulders tensed as if bracing for something unpleasant. “You’re a sophomore, right?”

“Yes,” Jesse answered, peering strangely at Eugene. Clearly, that wasn’t the topic he’d been expecting Eugene to ask about. “What about you?”

“Junior.”

“I hear junior year’s supposed to be brutal.”

“It’s not so bad. Have you planned out the courses you want to take yet?”

Jesse grimaced. “More or less.”

“I’m guessing it’s a heavy course load.” Jesse nodded. “Lots of AP classes?” Another nod. “Bro, why would you do that to yourself?”

“Because I’m expected to be the best,” he said bitterly.

“I bet you could get into Princeton or Yale on fencing alone. Don’t stress too much.”

Jesse laughed, shrill and mean.

“Don’t stress? You don’t know a thing about me, don’t tell me I don’t have anything to stress about—mmph!”

Eugene shoved a spoonful of Eton mess into Jesse’s complaining mouth.

“I didn’t,” he said, letting Jesse take the spoon from him, but bopping his nose with a finger as he moved out. It scrunched adorably in response. “I never said you don’t have legitimate worries to stress over. I told you not to stress _too_ much. Because _that’s_ what’ll make junior year brutal—stressing too much about being the best and not enough about being you. So don’t stress too much and have some fun. And,” he placed a fancy glass of perfectly crafted Eton mess into Jesse’s hand, “have some of this too.”

Jesse cupped the dessert in his hands and stared at Eugene blankly. Then he looked down with the tiniest smile—it was more like his mouth was finally relaxed rather than truly smiling, but it counted for something. Slowly, Jesse brought a spoonful to his softened mouth of his own accord. His eyes fluttered shut a moment and his features softened even more, a sigh following soon after he swallowed.

“It’s good,” Jesse admitted.

“Looks to me like you think it’s more than just ‘good,’” Eugene smirked as Jesse took another bite.

“Shut up. You’re not that special just because you make a decent Eton mess.”

“Sure. Not _that_ special, just a little bit special.”

Eugene hadn’t thought it was all that special either, but watching Jesse take yet another bite, he felt more generously toward the sweet than he had before. Jesse’s quiet savoring of it—the almost reluctance with which he enjoyed it—was far more convincing than Bobby’s excited gushing or Dante’s stoic praise orMrs. Emily’s declaration that his was best in the class.

Eugene didn’t usually like sweets that much but he kind of liked watching Jesse eat them.

“You’re friends with Seiji, right?” Jesse asked casually.

“Yup. You’d have known that, too, if you paid attention.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I was talking with Seiji when I first offered to bake for you.”

“Really?” Jesse’s surprise was so genuine that Eugene had to laugh.

“Really.”

“I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t expect for him to be there, so…”

“What about you? Are you friends with Seiji?”

This time, it was Jesse who laughed.

“No. Not at all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“My friendship with Seiji?”

“Your loss to him,” Eugene clarified bluntly. Jesse’s forced levity came crashing down. “Or we can keep talking circles around the subject if you’d like. I just think that’s the least helpful way to deal with it.”

“What is there to say?” Jesse asked darkly. “I lost. He beat me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Unless you want me to therapize you? Like, how does that make you feel?”

After a begrudging smile, Jesse sighed. “Awful. It feels awful.”

“Losing is never easy. The trick is to keep trying anyway.”

“And you’re an expert?”

Eugene didn’t let Jesse’s yapping get to him. Lashing out was just his way of trying to alleviate his pain. Not the best coping mechanism, but not something Eugene felt the need to take personally.

“Yeah, actually, I’m great at failing. And I’m the goddamn king of getting back up every time I get knocked on my ass.” Jesse seemed annoyed that Eugene was unaffected by his jab. Eugene leaned back against the counter next to him. “I’ve been trying to get on the fencing team since I was seven. Guess when I got on it.”

“When?”

“This year. Just keep trying. Next year, you’ll be even better. So will Seiji, though. He deserved his win.” Jesse scowled. “But that doesn’t mean you didn’t work just as hard for it. Only one person can win in the end, but you still did amazing.”

“Not amazing enough. Not as amazing as last year.”

“I watched your bout against Sungchul Park. _That_ was amazing.”

Jesse smiled again, very briefly pleased. Then his stormy mood was back.

“It wasn’t enough. Anyway, if you’re such good friends with Seiji and he deserved his win so much, why aren’t you with him?”

“Because you shouldn’t be alone,” Eugene shrugged. Hadn’t they already been over this? “I couldn’t help overhear your conversation with your dad and it sounded like you were in for a lonely night.”

“I don’t need pity. Especially not from you.”

“Not pity. Company.”

“Dad won’t be happy with me,” Jesse blurted, then looked mortified for letting it slip. But it was clearly a thought that had been pressing at his mind all night.

“That’s stupid. He should be proud of you.” Wrong thing to say.

“Dad _isn’t_ stupid. He’s the youngest American ever to bring home gold for épée, why shouldn’t he expect nothing but the best from me?”

“Because it’s unfair and impossible?”

“Maybe for _you,_ who couldn’t even make a fencing team at a third rate school for ten years. But _I’m_ better than that. I _should_ be better than this.”

Eugene didn’t say anything. If Jesse wanted to throw Eugene’s genuine attempts to help in his face, fine. Eugene didn’t have to take it. He was even considering leaving—why put up with Jesse Coste’s bullshit when he could be celebrating with his actual friends? But, even as he braced a hand on the counter as if to push himself off it, he knew he wouldn’t really leave.

“Sorry,” Jesse mumbled.

“Just because you’re upset and have a lot of pressure on you doesn’t mean you get to be a dick.”

“I know,” Jesse snapped. “I said sorry.”

“You’re not as great at apologies as you are at fencing.”

“I’m sorry,” Jesse said again, more grumbly than mumbly now. “I’m mad that I lost and I took it out on you. Better?”

“Good enough.”

“Do you bake a lot?” Jesse asked as a change of topic and, possibly, as a further peace offering. Eugene shook his head with a grin.

“Not usually. Why? Do you have a request?”

“If I did, would you take it?”

“I could be persuaded.”

Jesse smirked as if he knew _exactly_ what Eugene would want in way of persuasion. He seemed in better spirits, at least, contemplating his own desirability.

“Give me your phone,” Jesse demurred, offering out a hand. Eugene didn’t make a fuss about handing it over—unlocked and ready to receive Jesse’s number. After some pointed taps at the screen, Eugene heard a trill from Jesse’s pocket. No doubt, if Jesse pulled it out right now, Eugene would see his own number lighting up the screen.

“Well,” Eugene said, taking back his phone, “until the next time I’m summoned, then.” And with that, he finally did push himself off the counter he’d been leaning on for ages.

“I’ll be in contact when next I require a dessert.” The emphasis was meant to taunt Eugene by reminding him that all this relationship would ever be was desserts.

“Can’t wait.” Eugene gave Jesse none of the satisfaction he’d been aiming for when issuing the taunt.

“I’m thinking I want a chiffon cake,” Jesse slid from his perch. “Layered with strawberries and cream, of course.”

“Of course.”

Jesse walked to the door with Eugene. He looked for just a second regretful. Eugene thought again that Jesse must be incredibly lonely all by himself in this big room.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked.

“What?”

“I mean, it’s been a tough day. Are you okay?”

“Fine, thank you,” Jesse said tersely, face pinched and irritated with Eugene for reminding him of his tough day.

“Are you sure you’re really okay? You don’t have to be, you know.”

Jesse’s irritation transformed into anger.

“Okay? Am I _okay?_ What a stupid fucking question. _No!_ No, of course I’m not okay! After all my work, it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. I lost. Instead of improving, I got worse. What a fucking disappointment I’ve become, what a failure. Even sitting at the top—even as _the best,_ I wasn’t good enough. I’m never—and now I’ve fallen even farther. Am I okay? What a stupid question.”

Jesse was breathing heavily, fists clenched, and eyes a little too bright. Eugene regarded him carefully, assessing what he needed to hear. There was a lot Eugene could say, but he didn’t think it would mean anything coming from him.

“Are you going to be okay?” He settled on eventually.

Jesse’s face darkened even more, his cheeks going slightly red, as though Eugene had insulted him gravely.

_Yup, he’s a difficult one for sure._

“Yes, I _know_ I’ll be okay,” Jesse raged. “Spare me your lecture about how time heals all wounds or how I could have it much worse. I _know_ , okay? I know I’ll be okay, I don’t need you patronizing me.”

Eugene shook his head. “No, I mean…did you ever have to take a beginning art class? Yeah? Good, you know how the teacher tells you, first thing, to draw what you see, not what you know? This is like that. Listen to my actual question, don’t just hear what you think I’m saying. So answer me, are you going to be okay?”

Jesse took a long time before answering.

“It doesn’t feel like I will be.”

“Can I help?”

Jesse squinted at Eugene, trying to decide if Eugene was being sincere. He must have decided that Eugene really meant to help.

“No,” he sighed, “there’s really nothing that _can_ help.”

“I could stay if you’d like.” The offer came out before Eugene could think better of it. Gratifyingly, Jesse looked briefly tempted.

“No, you should get back to your friends. I’ll…”

“Be okay?”

“Okay enough.” Jesse even offered up a weak smile.

“If you need another dessert, just let me know.”

“Because I’m not likely to get any comfort from dear old Dad?” Jesse asked, mood all at once darkening again. Guy had daddy issues for days. “Don’t think I need you, Eugene Labao. I can take care of myself. I always have.”

“Man, you are a hot mess, aren’t you?” Eugene’s eyes lit up with a joke. “An Exton mess!”

“Clever,” Jesse said dryly. “You can leave now.”

“Yeah, okay,” Eugene took hold of the door handle. “But, my dear Exton Mess, just because you _can_ deal with everything alone doesn’t mean you have to. Or that you should.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Truths_ was a manifestation of my wildest hopes and desires for what Robert could be as a character. This fic is the opposite of that. In this fic, Robert is all my worst fears for what he might be in canon
> 
> On a side note, I think it's funny that my only two fics that really deal with the outcome of nationals (if you're reading this in the future and I've got more fics with that as a plot point, then something went terribly wrong and I got terribly side-tracked) and certain people having to learn they can't always be the best are getting posted simultaneously. that wasn't my intention but it's how things worked out lmao


	4. Chapter 4

Eugene hadn’t heard from Jesse since nationals. After leaving Jesse, he’d returned to the room the team had booked just in time to force a hug on Seiji before he could escape back to his own private room, Nick following along behind him. Poor things had gone _ages_ without sharing a room for convenient groping. Inside the hotel room, Aiden and Harvard had been _very_ interested in where Eugene had gone.

Two weeks later and it was still a hot topic during lunch.

“So, you mean to tell me that you— _you_ , Eugene Labao—spent hours alone in a private room with a gorgeous boy and you seriously didn’t make a move?” Aiden raised the question again, as incredulous as the last fifty times he’d raised it.

“Yup, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Nothing happened?” Nick asked. “At all?”

“Not a thing.”

“Bullshit.” Aiden’s position on the matter had been clear from the start. “I don’t believe it.”

“But Jesse was emotionally compromised,” Bobby chastised with a frown.

“So Eugene could have offered him some comfort!”

“So Eugene wouldn’t have taken advantage!”

“As much as I love listening to you fools discuss my moral and sexual compass, we’ve had this talk way too many times for it to be entertaining anymore. Why is it even so interesting to you lot?”

“Did he try to make you agree to murder Seiji as revenge?” Nick asked with a snicker, not done at all with this totally fun and original conversation. Eugene shook his head, opening his mouth to say he’d already told them everything there was to tell when his phone started buzzing demandingly. Slipping it out, Eugene found Jesse’s name on the screen. He’d programmed in his whole damn name like some business acquaintance, which made Eugene want to laugh. _What a dork._

“You do realize I could have been in class, right?” Eugene asked, answering the call. Next to him, Nick tried to peek at the name, but he’d missed his chance; the phone was already pressed securely against Eugene’s ear.

“As you picked up,” Jesse’s uppity voice said across the line, “I take it you’re at lunch, so it all worked out.”

“Guess so, but my point still stands. I’ll bet you didn’t even consider that I was busy or you might have gotten me in trouble by calling me.”

“Really? What, exactly, would you be willing to bet?”

Eugene chuckled. “Getting a craving for a Eugene Labao specialty treat already?”

“I believe I was promised a chiffon cake.”

“Yeah, I do remember something about a request for that. I also remember how you could have been sweeter about making it.”

“Oh my god,” Nick’s eyes went bright with interest. “Is that him? Is that Jesse?”

“Who’s that?” Jesse asked.

Eugene stood from the table, grabbing his tray with one hand.

“No one important,” he said, taking his leave to find somewhere to talk without listening ears everywhere, but not before thumping the tray lightly over Nick’s head. “I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you again.”

“Miracles happen.”

“Riiiight. So, what’s up?”

“I was just in the mood for some—what did you call it? Comfort food.”

“Somehow, I figured. And miracles _do_ happen so I can even provide it for you. Tell me where.”

* * *

Eugene whistled a single, impressed note. This hotel he’d been summoned to was every bit as fancy as the one he’d been taken to after nationals.

Jesse peeled himself from a plush chair in the lobby, coming to Eugene’s side.

“Next time, send me an ingredients list beforehand, that way I can have them fetched before you get here.”

“Next time, huh?”

“And don’t wear a tank top next time either,” Jesse said in distaste.

“But tanks show off my guns,” Eugene said just to be obnoxious. He also flexed. To be extra obnoxious. Jesse scoffed, but Eugene noticed that he didn’t look away from the show.

“You look low class, it doesn’t fit with The Peak.”

“You’re the one who called me on my way to hit the gym and insisted you couldn’t wait another minute to get started.”

Jesse huffed as the elevator dinged open. “I thought it was implied that I wanted you here right after school to make me my cake.”

“Man, you are shameless.” But Eugene didn’t say it like it was a bad thing, necessarily.

Baking a chiffon cake was a longer process than Eton mess, and Jesse spent the whole time sitting cross-legged on a spot of counter asking how much longer it would take. Between complaints, though, Eugene managed to get some good conversation out of Jesse.

Like when Jesse mentioned that his mom had visited recently and they’d gone out shopping. He spoke about her the way most teenagers talked about moms, with rolling eyes and fond smiles and complaints about too many kisses. It was different from how he talked about his dad. Not missing any of the love, but without the reverence. It was a healthier way, in Eugene’s eyes, to regard a parent.

After Jesse had finished talking about his mom, he asked Eugene if he had a mom—shamelessly blunt, which made Eugene laugh. And then he said that, yeah, he did have a mom and that he thought she was the coolest. He also talked about his dad and his sister and his three brothers. Jesse didn’t have any siblings, but he said that little brothers sounded a bit fun after Eugene told him about how his littlest brother had called their sister a ‘sluts’ last year because he’d misremembered the word _klutz._

When at last Eugene handed Jesse a slice of cake, he leaned his forearms on the counter, facing Jesse and leaning in toward his little island in the middle of it. Jesse’s eyes lingered on Eugene’s arms again before turning on the cake he’d been so impatient to eat.

Jesse ate it delicately, his pleasure showing clearly on his face again.

“Any good?” Eugene asked.

“Why don’t you try and see for yourself?”

“Not huge on sweets, ‘specially not the sort you’re so fond of.”

“Really? But you’re so good at making them.”

“You think so?” Eugene grinned at Jesse’s reluctant nod. He hadn’t meant to give so much away, even though saying outright he liked Eugene’s baking wasn’t giving much away at all. “Let me try a bite, then.”

“Of my piece? No way, get your own, this one’s mine.”

“The whole damn cake is yours,” Eugene said, leaning in teasingly. He did not at all expect Jesse to actually share. But Jesse did. More surprising still, Jesse brought the fork to Eugene’s mouth himself. Eugene took the bite and Jesse watched him carefully as he chewed.

“Good, right?”

“You ask that like you’re the one who made it.”

“Well, it’s _my_ cake.”

“You’re always a fun time, Exton Mess. Yeah, your cake’s good. No less than befits you.”

Honestly, Eugene was pleased with the cake. He’d never technically made a chiffon cake before, specifically. It was only out of curiosity, really, that he’d looked up how to make a chiffon cake after nationals. And it was a mystery as to why he’d also bothered to ask Bobby for some insider tips. He’d gotten them, along with a side dish of questioning looks, free of charge.

“What else can you make?” Jesse asked.

“I make a mean sundae,” Eugene said, thinking back on his partnership with Nick to create their chocolate monstrosity. Jesse made a face.

“I don’t like ice cream. It hurts my teeth.”

“Well, alright then. I can figure out just about anything. Or I could surprise you.”

“Okay. Just remember about the ingredients list.”

“And the tank top.”

Jesse’s eyes flitted again to his arms and Eugene was sure he rather enjoyed the gun show. But no way would he admit that.

“Yes,” Jesse said slowly, “and the tank top.”

“Now that we’ve gone over my issues, let’s get to yours.”

“Who says I have any?”

“Your comfort food,” Eugene deadpanned. “Also, everything about you screams _issues._ Hence your nickname.”

“That is _not_ my nickname,” Jesse scowled.

“That’s not for you to decide. And it’s off-topic, anyway.”

Jesse took another moment to scowl. Then he sighed and his body collapsed in on itself a little.

“I did poorly on my ACT prep test.”

Eugene raised his eyebrows, surprised that Jesse was already worried about ACT prep.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I know you love doing that, but you’ve got time. You’ll get better. This test score is nothing but a little blip to tell you where you are now, and you can use it to improve.”

Jesse considered, taking another forkful of cake while he did.

“You’re good at looking at the positive, aren’t you?”

“Thanks for noticing, it’s a skill I’ve been working on for years.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me what score I got?”

“Nope. You’re more than a score. And I’m sure you did perfectly fine and are just holding yourself to some impossible standard.”

“More than just a score? You should be a motivational speaker, Eugene. Or a baker,” Jesse added, punctuated with yet another bite.

“Yeah, I could start up a shop—bake some treats and offer a look on the bright side with each one sold. Call it ‘Comfort Food’ or something. And you, Exton Mess, are my customer zero, so you shall get a dessert named in your honor.”

“Oh, please tell me which one, I can’t guess what over-spent joke you might use.”

“It’s a secret.”

Jesse finished his cake as they elaborated on Eugene’s theoretical bakery. When Jesse dumped his plate in the sink and crawled off the table, Eugene expected to be walked to the door. Instead, Jesse relocated to the couch and asked Eugene if he felt like a movie.

Eugene, of course, said that he did.

“Are you staying here tonight?” Eugene asked when the movie ended and Jesse bid him a sleepy _g’night._

“Mmmh? Yeah. I’ll catch an early Uber back to campus like usual.”

Eugene tucked that ‘like usual’ away in his mind but didn’t feel the need to mention it tonight.

“You look like you’re ready to fall asleep right here, right now,” Eugene chuckled at Jesse’s molasses limbs and droopy eyes. He’d hit a wall halfway through the movie.

“Maybe I will,” Jesse yawned, “who’s going to stop me?”

Eugene snorted. He’d been on his way to collect his stuff, but he returned to the couch instead, stopping in front of Jesse.

“Me. I’m gonna stop you. C’mere, let’s get you to bed.”

“Don’t wanna,” Jesse whined.

“You’re putting that big, fancy bed to waste.”

Jesse groaned and Eugene got the idea he was being difficult on purpose. He shrugged, unconcerned, and hoisted Jesse up under the arms. Jesse fell heavy against him as they made their way to the bedroom.

Eugene had only really known Jesse for a patchwork of hours, but it didn’t feel strange to help Jesse to bed as he complained about being too tired. Jesse was just the sort of person that liked being taken care of, which made it easy for Eugene to take care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know, I must really just think that Eugene's type is somebody that needs to be taken care of because, like, bro, there was no reason for him to have come back, Jesse's shown very few redeeming qualities (has he even shown any?) lmaooo but Eugene does! He keeps coming back! Why! because he secretly loves spoiling pretty brats, that's why. (i dont make the rules, sorry, Eugene just has this inability to leave Jesse alone)


	5. Chapter 5

“Do you think I could tag along to your baking classes?” Eugene asked Bobby, catching him after class. He got another side dose of side-eye for his trouble.

“Of course you can, Eugene. Mrs. Emily adores you, and Dante and I love having you along.”

“Getting the foods and nutritions crew back together!” Eugene slapped Bobby’s hand in a high five.

“Why are you so interested in baking lately?” Bobby questioned as they started walking toward Castello.

“Because I’m good at it.”

“You were good at it last semester—and last year too, but you never showed any interest in it until now.”

“So, what’re you saying, Bobby?”

“Where’d you go last night?”

Eugene thought of Jesse’s weight leaned firmly against him. Thought of the hazy and sleepy feeling of the dark hotel room after the movie, and of Jesse’s soft sounds of protest as Eugene hauled him to the bedroom and deposited him on the soft mattress. Jesse’s golden hair had spilled across the pillows and his pale hand had fallen next to his turned head.

 _“You got me in bed,”_ Jesse had said, taunting and tired. _“Congratulations.”_

The spread of his limbs and twist of his torso had been provocative, despite being fully clothed. Jesse Coste really was too delectable for his own good.

Eugene had said goodnight and taken his leave quickly.

“Mmh-hmm,” Bobby said knowingly. Eugene’s thoughts must have been transmitting on his face, plain as day.

“Shut it,” Eugene shoved Bobby lightly.

By the next day, it was common knowledge that Eugene had gone to visit Jesse again—not that it was really a secret or all that surprising since anyone with ears and a brain could have pieced that together from his lunchtime phone call. But everyone had the wrong idea about it, and Bobby’s recount couldn’t have helped with that.

For the following weeks, Eugene’s life settled into a new routine. A routine that involved a lot more baking than he ever would have expected. Besides the baking classes, Eugene had also taken to looking up recipes and collecting them from Bobby, who gave them happily. In fact, Bobby had been so enthusiastic at Eugene’s interest in confections that they’d frequently go play around in the kitchens together, trying out recipes. Eugene had even asked his ma to teach him some of her recipes over a long weekend.

And, of course, there were the evenings spent in hotel rooms, baking for and talking with the one and only Jesse Coste. Eugene looked forward to those evenings and his friends all knew it. They gave him endless shit about it, too. Nick in particular was annoyingly gleeful and persistent in his teasing. Eugene could be the bigger man and admit that he’d reaped what he’d sowed with that one.

“You off to get some sugar?” Nick popped up behind Eugene.

“The fuck did you come from?” Eugene asked, punching Nick in the arm as a friendly hello. “And I’m not huge on sugar, Nicky Boy, you know that.”

“Even from your friend with benefits?”

“Oy, the only ‘benefits’ involved in that relationship are all the sweets Jesse’s getting. _I’m_ not seeing any benefits at all.”

“Sure, you go babysit a spoiled rich kid with no return at all for your efforts. No way he’s worth it unless he’s putting out.”

Eugene frowned over at Nick. There was an oddly malicious note that had crept into that statement that was unlike Nick. Seiji’s whole deal about Jesse had turned Nick somewhat nasty about him, best Eugene could figure.

“Jesse’s a pretty interesting guy,” Eugene said slowly, watching Nick’s reaction. He didn’t look convinced. More than that, he seemed unhappy at the prospect. “I like talking with him,” Eugene continued, feeling just slightly defensive of Jesse. “He’s not only a spoiled brat, you know.”

“Yeah, he’s a _pretty_ and spoiled brat.”

“Fair,” Eugene agreed with an appreciative laugh. “Jesse _is_ pretty. But he’s also got a lot of pressure on him.”

“So does Seiji and _he_ doesn’t act like a total brat.”

Eugene raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that one, Nick?”

“Fine,” Nick conceded the point this time with a laugh of his own that turned to a loving—and horny—smile at the thought of his boyfriend acting like a brat. “Seiji’s got a lot of pressure on him, too, but he doesn’t _always_ act like a brat.”

“Everyone handles things their own way. And Jesse’s dad’s not great about any of it.” _Shit._ Eugene realized too late that he probably shouldn’t have shared that, even though it would be obvious to anyone who paid attention. “Don’t get me wrong,” Eugene continued hastily, “Jesse’s a self-centered pain in the ass, but he’s still fun enough to chill with.”

“Robert’s not a good dad?” Nick asked with interest. “I always thought it couldn’t get better than an Olympian dad as a personal coach.”

“Yeah, well, apparently, Olympian dads as personal coaches have unrealistic expectations and aren’t sympathetic when they’re not met.” Eugene felt bad for spilling, but it was already out so explaining more couldn’t hurt. Nick digested this, then nodded slowly.

“So you just get off on being Jesse’s shoulder to cry on,” Nick grinned, but Eugene knew he was tucking that information on Robert away for later. Eugene could only wonder what for. “Are you going to go give some sugar to your special friend tonight or not?”

“And we’ve come full circle. Yes, I’ve been summoned by his royal highness,” Eugene confirmed.

All the way to Jesse’s hotel, Eugene thought about what Nick had said—what he and all the others had been saying since Eugene’s first visit to a hotel with Jesse. Why _did_ he keep coming over at Jesse’s beck and call? Why _was_ he so invested in a pampered rich kid with daddy issues? Jesse was pretty, that much was true, but the more Eugene got to know Jesse, the more sure he was that he didn’t want that from Jesse. So, what then, that begged the question, _did_ Eugene want from Jesse?

To take care of him, apparently.

Jesse was in a state when Eugene got to him, armed with his very own room key picked up from the front desk. They recognized him and he was allowed to roam the hotel now without Jesse worrying Eugene would embarrass him if left to his own devices.

 _“You’re the only one he ever brings back,”_ Martha at the front desk had told him tonight. Eugene knew what that meant and he wasn’t surprised to hear that Jesse brought other boys here. He doubted any of those boys came to satisfy Jesse’s sweet tooth.

“Took you long enough,” Jesse grouched when Eugene came in, finding his requested ingredients already on the counter alongside Jesse himself.

Eugene rolled his sleeves up, tweaked Jesse’s nose on his way to the sink because Jesse was asking for it, and washed his hands.

“Tell me,” Eugene said simply, getting to work on his cookies.

“Tell you what?”

“Whatever it is you’re so impatient to tell me.” Eugene started in on his measuring when Jesse didn’t start chattering right away. After an unnaturally long stretch of quiet, he tried again. “You okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” Jesse didn’t elaborate. So he was in a foul _and_ quiet mood.

With no way to make Jesse talk before he was good and ready, Eugene did the talking for once. He talked more of home and his family as he went about mixing. Eventually, stories about his siblings turned into stories about Nick and Seiji and Harvard and Aiden.

“I miss fencing like crazy now that the season’s over,” Eugene admitted. “I mean, sure, I can still go fence but it’s not the same without the whole team, you know?”

“I prefer individual.”

“Not a great trait for a team captain, no offense.”

“I’m a good captain,” Jesse kicked out one of his legs but Eugene avoided the strike easily.

“I’m just saying, liking the team is important to captaining it.”

“I like my team, I only said that I prefer individual épée, not that I hate my team or anything.”

“Yeah, alright. I prefer teams in every sport I’ve tried.”

“You do more than fence?”

“Sure I do. I’ve been on tons of teams over the years.”

“Maybe that’s why it took you so long to make the fencing team. No offense. But spreading your focus like that can’t have helped.”

“Interesting theory, I’ll take it under consideration. Here, try this.”

“That,” Jesse said accusingly at the wooden spoon Eugene was holding out to him, “is raw.”

“Scientifically proven to be the best state a chocolate chip cookie can ever be in. Fresh out of the oven is good too, though.” He nudged the spoon at Jesse some more.

“It’s a little simple, don’t you think? Chocolate chip cookies.”

“Simple doesn’t mean less delicious. Don’t be a snob about this, live a little and eat the damn dough.”

Jesse skeptically collected a dollop of it between finger and thumb. “If I die or get horribly sick, I’m blaming you.”

“Feel free to.”

“That means you’d be required to put fresh flowers on my grave every week.”

“Okay.” Eugene thought about it. “Would I be required to cry too?”

“Absolutely. At my funeral, at the very least. And perhaps a tear or two whenever you smell strawberries or bake a sweet and think of me.”

“Trust me, if you were dead, I wouldn’t be baking nearly so much. But strawberries, huh? That one’ll be harder to avoid. I like strawberries.”

“Good, then I know I’ll be missed.” The teasing quality had abandoned Jesse’s voice and the words fell flat and more seriously than they’d probably been intended. Jesse covered it up quickly. “And if I get sick, you’ll be responsible for nursing me back to health.”

“Happily,” Eugene agreed as Jesse popped the dough in his mouth at last. He was off tonight. Strange and quiet and not able to hold up his usual careless nonchalance.

Eugene put down his bowl of cookie dough and, without thinking much about it, he pulled Jesse to him in a hug, a hand at the back of his skull, guiding it into his shoulder. It was second-nature to Eugene to offer comfort when someone was hurting and he’d moved on autopilot. Hugs, in his estimation, made everything hurt a little less bad. He expected Jesse to pitch a fit and pull away, scold Eugene for trying to make a move on him. That he didn’t, that he, instead, burrowed his head deeper into the crook of Eugene’s neck and bent down from his perch to clutch into Eugene’s shirt only showed how badly Jesse had needed the hug.

Eugene held him silently for long minutes. Long enough that he was glad no cookies were in the oven. He turned his head into Jesse’s and took a deep breath of his scent. He frowned.

“You don’t smell like strawberries,” Eugene said. Asked, really. Jesse’s head shifted. It could have been a tiny shake or a simple readjustment.

“I spent the weekend at home.”

“Oh, and your fancy strawberry shampoo is stored at school?”

“No. Yes. It’s complicated.”

“Your shampoo is complicated?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I’d like to. Tell me about your shampoo.” _Tell me about its significance,_ he wanted to say. But he wouldn’t push.

“I don’t use my favorite shampoo at home anymore. Dad doesn’t like it. It’s too...froofy.”

_Oh._

“I like your froofy shampoo,” Eugene offered. Jesse stuttered a little laugh into his shoulder, then pulled back.

“Anyway, I just got back in town this evening so I smell like home instead of me.” Jesse reached for the bowl of cookie dough and slid off the table with it, cradling it in his arms as he walked over to the couch.

“Uh, Exton Mess? I haven’t cooked that yet.” But Eugene followed him.

“I know. But you’ll take care of me if it makes me sick, won’t you?”

“I swear it on my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys, this physically hurt me to write. I don’t want Robert to be evil even if I’m sure he really is awful. Jesse deserves better!!


	6. Chapter 6

Eugene was finding that he didn’t like Robert Coste much. He’d always admired the guy. A legend of Kings Row Boys School and a gold medalist at 21, Robert Coste was impressive. Used to seem impressive to Eugene. Cool, even. But he’d had a hard time thinking on the man with anything but extreme distaste ever since Jesse had sat quiet and alone on his counter in his hotel room, acting not himself. Ever since he’d let Eugene hug him and confessed into his shoulder that the reason behind his generic manly smelling hair was that he’d spent time at home with his dad. It was _all_ because he’d spent time at home, every little worry of Jesse’s was rooted in whatever big house he lived in. Rooted in the disapproving lines of his father’s face. Eugene could tell now when Jesse had been spending time with Robert. It always left him melancholy and strange. It always pissed Eugene off.

Here was the part he wasn’t good at. The keeping his mouth shut and his judgments to himself. Jesse so clearly adored his father. And his father so clearly didn’t deserve that adoration. The impossibly high expectations when Eugene knew for a fact that Robert hadn’t been nearly as successful as Jesse was when he was a kid. He’d seen Williams’s file on Robert on her desk earlier in the year and he’d had shit grades. But Jesse was expected to be perfect in all things and Robert made him feel like he was a disappointment and a failure whenever Jesse couldn’t live up to literal perfection. It was fucked up. It was fucking him up.

But Eugene didn’t say anything that infringed on Jesse’s fierce love and protectiveness for his dad. Not everyone, Eugene reminded himself, was lucky enough to have parents as great as his. And telling Jesse all the ways his beloved dad was inadequate wouldn’t change that. Wouldn’t help any. So he baked sweet treats and served them to Jesse with sweet words—as sweet as Eugene knew how to be, anyway. Advice and comfort and food and hugs. But never too much prying. Never accusations. Never anything that would scare Jesse away or provoke Jesse into chasing him away.

“You can stay if you’d like,” Jesse said late one night, watching Eugene tidy the kitchen with exasperation. “And you don’t have to do that. I tip the staff well, they’ll clean. That’s their job.”

“It’s polite,” Eugene shook his head at Jesse and his pampered ways. “But good on you for tipping well, that’s a good way to judge a man’s character, Ma always says, pay attention to his tipping habits.”

“Then your mother would approve of me?”

Eugene laughed, trying to imagine bringing someone like Jesse home. “Yeah, she’d probably like you fine.”

“Don’t make fun, you’re the one that brought it up.”

“Sorry, wasn’t trying to make fun. Just thought it was a funny question. Because, yeah, my mom likes everyone. And your moral character is good enough, I suppose. She’d probably approve of you as a person.”

Jesse nodded at this like it made perfect sense and he’d never doubted it.

“Anyway, like I was saying, you don’t have to go back to school tonight. It’s later than usual.”

It was. Creeping into hours that technically belonged to the morning.

“Kings Row’s strict about curfew and sneaking out all night,” Eugene said.

“You can’t tell me you don’t break curfew every time you come here.”

“No, I can’t tell you that. They’re strict but Williams doesn’t ever check so I’m safe.”

“How fortunate. You can have the couch.”

Eugene hadn’t said he’d stay but he finished the dishes and grinned at Jesse with the full intent to tease.

“What, you’re not going to share the bed? But it’s so big, it’s a downright waste to fill it with only one body.”

“If I wanted another body in my bed, I wouldn’t have called you.”

“I love it when you’re feisty.”

“Again, very fortunate.”

“The couch sounds like a dream, thanks for your generosity.”

“I’ll get you a pillow. And if you’re nice to me, I might even throw in a blanket.”

“Just out of curiosity, what would ‘being nice to you’ consist of if making you the stupid fucking macarons you wanted isn’t cutting it?”

Jesse hummed as he considered the question. “Generally, people try compliments.”

“Really? You want compliments in exchange for a blanket? You drive a hard bargain, Coste. Okay, I’ll see what I can do.” Eugene pretended to think hard on it. “Your eyes are gorgeous enough to drown in,” Eugene drawled. “And you’ve got very soft, very nice smelling hair.”

“Good enough. You can have a blanket.”

“Aw, Jess, you’re the best.”

Jesse gave him a weird look for that but didn’t comment. Off he went to fetch Eugene some bedding and down Eugene sat to find something to put on the TV. He must have picked something good because Jesse sat down when he returned, snuggling comfortably in the blanket he’d allegedly gotten for Eugene.

“Turn off the lights?” He asked, peering at Eugene through long lashes.

“Why didn’t you? You were just up.”

“I didn’t want to run into anything.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst. Fine.” Eugene stood. “Want anything else while I’m up?”

“My macarons, please? And a sparkling water?”

“You and your sparkling water, I swear. That right there takes your character points down a couple notches.”

“I like sparkling water, it’s good.”

“It’s really not.” Eugene fished in the fridge for one and grabbed up the plate of pink strawberry macarons that had required some sweet-talking on Mrs. Emily to teach him how to make. “Here’s your stuff.”

“The lights?”

“On it, be patient.”

When Eugene made it back to the couch, he tugged some of the blanket away from Jesse. Jesse was so tangled up in it that this had the effect of tugging Jesse right along with the blanket and right up close to Eugene. Neither of them bothered readjusting.

Eventually, Jesse propped the pillow against Eugene’s shoulder and leaned against it sleepily.

“Doesn’t Exton mind that you stay out all the time?” Eugene asked, thinking that he ought to thank his lucky stars that Coach Williams was the dorm advisor for Castello. Even if she did find him missing, he could grovel with her and get off with a detention, some suicides, and nothing more.

“Not really. They turn a blind eye on it because Dad makes such generous donations and I’m, well, me.”

Eugene snorted. “Real humble, I see.”

“It’s true. I’m a great asset to Exton, they don’t want to lose me.”

“You must spend a fortune coming to this place all the time,” Eugene mused. The Peak was high class and Jesse always booked out the best rooms.

“It’s a small price to pay as far as Dad’s concerned.” Jesse’s voice turned a little bitter, a little wry, a little hurt. Eugene looked at him, forgetting about the show completely.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” He asked gently. Jesse didn’t speak for so long that Eugene was sure he didn’t want to, wasn’t going to.

“When I was fourteen, I was kind of seeing this boy. I took him home. Dad was—he was—there was this business trip he had to go on and it was supposed to be all week. But he came home early and...and he walked in on us.” Jesse’s voice was quiet but determined. His eyes matched that determination and Eugene was sure it was will power alone that kept his voice from quavering or eyes from misting. “The boy left in a hurry but Dad wasn’t happy. At all. He said that _if you must do that, don’t do it under my roof._ And so I haven’t. I come here instead. No matter how often I stay or how much I rack up in room service and fees, he doesn’t mention it. That’s our understanding.”

Eugene was simultaneously horrified and unsurprised. Robert Coste didn’t like his son smelling like strawberries, no way would he like Jesse kissing boys. Being with boys. Being _froofy._ Being gay. Eugene had known it. But it still hurt him to hear it. To hear that Jesse wasn’t allowed to be himself under his dad’s roof, under his eye. No wonder he always came back from visits looking deflated, like he’d been trying to fit himself into a place he didn’t fit at all. And, in his own little act of rebellion, in a cry to be understood or, at least, seen, Jesse intentionally came to The Peak all the time, leaving a trail of credit card bills behind him that his dad probably didn’t even look at.

“You don’t need me telling you this, but you know there’s nothing—you’re not wrong for liking boys. What’s wrong is that you ever have to censor yourself. For anyone. Especially for someone that’s meant to love you unconditionally.”

“He does,” Jesse lashed. “Dad _does_ love me unconditionally.”

_Then why don’t you feel like you can use your favorite shampoo when he’s close enough to notice it?_

“Okay. You’re right, he does love you. But he could love you better, Jess, you deserve to be loved better.”

For a long time, the TV was the only thing to fill the silence that followed.

“You keep calling me that,” Jesse eventually said. “Jess.”

“Sorry, do you prefer Exton Mess?”

Jesse laughed a little, shook his head.

“No. Jess is good. I’ve never had anyone call me that before but you can, I guess. But only because you bake me anything I want.”

“Okay, Jess.”

“Okay.”

There wasn’t anything more to say and the room fell to the TV’s chatter again. Eugene was aware of Jesse’s weight against him and was aware when it fell heavier, his body giving way to sleep.

Eugene considered carrying Jesse to bed. It was such a waste to leave it empty. He thought he could pull it off, possibly even without waking Jesse up completely. All those long limbs would be inconvenient for carrying and Jesse had enough muscle on him to be heavy but Eugene was confident he was plenty strong enough to handle it. That wasn’t why he abandoned the idea.

Jesse might not have wanted another body in his bed tonight. But Eugene thought that he _did_ want the company of another body next to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of you might say that, hey, wait a minute, this character motivation seems in line with Aiden! To which I say, there can be multiple rich white boys with daddy issues, let’s not be stingy


	7. Chapter 7

Eugene was sitting with Nick in the courtyard, watching Tristin show off his impossible. Eugene had to admit the guy had moves.

“Hey, think I should pick up skating?” Eugene asked, nudging Nick. Nick looked dubiously from Tristin’s skate tricks to Eugene.

“Absolutely you should. You’d look ridiculous and it’d be hilarious.”

“You think?”

“You don’t fit the look, Eugene.”

“Hey, but you do. Ever thought of joining up?”

“Tristin tried to teach me to skate last semester. I’m shit at it.”

“Bet I’d be better than your sorry ass.”

“Honestly, probably. I was _so_ bad at it, it’s not even funny.”

“Don’t get down on yourself, I’m sure it was hilarious. Oy, Tristin!”

Tristin flipped up his board and came over to them, grinning amiably.

“What’s up?” He asked.

“Nick wanted to show me some of his mad skating skills—,”

“No way,” Nick cut in loudly. “Tristin, it’s actually Eugene that’s dying to give skating a try, you should totally teach him.”

“Yeah?” Tristin asked Eugene. “You can’t be worse than Nick.”

“Hey! Not nice!” Nick protested, laughing. As they debated who would be trying their luck on Tristin’s board, all standing around the object in question, Seiji appeared, face turning to distaste as he recognized Tristin. _This oughtta be good,_ Eugene thought, watching as Seiji swept past Tristin purposefully and wrapped his arms tightly around Nick’s neck without so much as a moment’s hesitation, affixing his mouth to Nick’s and kissing him, long and deep with an almost obscene display of pressed bodies. Nick, weak fool that he was, couldn’t help but catch Seiji around the waist and pull him even closer. Kiss him even harder, too, judging by the sounds.

“You two are fucking shameless,” Eugene said, “Alright, okay, that’s enough. Break it up now, leave room for Jesus.”

Eugene rolled his eyes at Tristin, who’d been watching the whole display with a fascinated horror. Eugene could relate. He wondered if Tristin knew Seiji put on this show just for him. There was no way he hadn’t noticed, right? Nick and Seiji had been together for months— _officially. Un_ officially, they’d probably been together for even longer, but Seiji still couldn’t stand Tristin. Seiji didn’t like many people, but Tristin was nice so it was a shame Seiji hated him so completely. It was Nick’s fault, though, flirting with both of them back in the fall. Eugene had told him not to try juggling two guys at once but had Nick listened? No, the little scamp had not. And so now, whenever Seiji spotted Nick having too much fun in Tristin’s proximity, he got possessive and handsy. It was sort of funny, really, since Seiji wasn’t normally like that, and watching it was entertaining. In a gross kind of way. This was the first time Seiji’d planted a kiss like _that_ on Nick in front of them, though.

Finally, the love birds fell apart, Nick looking both abashed and pleased, Seiji just looking self-satisfied. Like hell he didn’t act like a total brat sometimes, not even Jesse would have pulled a move like that. Probably, anyway.

“You know what?” Eugene said, taking pity on Tristin, who was caught up in the middle of this whole scene by no fault of his own, “I think I will give skating a chance.”

“Oh—rad! Yeah, let’s get to it,” Tristin agreed enthusiastically.

* * *

“Seiji, man, you know I love you,” Eugene said later, dropping his tray down at the table Nick and Seiji had commandeered for the evening, “but you have got to play a little nicer with Nick’s friends.”

Seiji didn’t answer, but he peeled his orange with enough aggression to make sure Eugene knew he didn’t think how he played with his boyfriend’s friends was any of Eugene’s business. He was right. But Eugene liked to have his fun, and poking his nose into whatever the hell Nick and Seiji were up to was _always_ good fun.

“I should apologize to Tristin,” Nick said, looking properly shamed.

“You should talk with your boyfriend and get him to stop it with the gimmicks. Tristin gets the message, loud and clear.”

“I don’t tell Seiji what to do,” Nick said, sneaking a look at him, now neatly sectioning his orange with an expression so sour you’d think the orange had insulted his mother. “I’m not stupid. Not _that_ stupid.”

“But I am,” Eugene said cheerily. “Seiji, stop it with the gimmicks, there is not a soul in this school that doesn’t know Nick is your man, including Tristin. And I think he likes that slimy little friend of his, anyway. There’s no accounting for taste.”

“Morgan?” Seiji asked, looking up from his orange. “How unfortunate for him.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“You’d, of course, be able to sympathize with such terrible decisions,” Seiji said tritely.

“I’d what now?”

“You’ve gone and fallen for Jesse, which isn’t a much better decision than liking Morgan.”

“I’ve _what_ now?”

“No?” Seiji asked, genuinely curious. “How strange. I’ve never known anyone to put so much time and effort into someone they didn’t really care about.”

“I _do_ really care about Jesse but I haven’t fucking fallen for him. God, you too, Seiji? Can’t a man enjoy a variety of sweets with a guy without the whole world accusing him of being in love?”

“You don’t like sweets,” Seiji pointed out.

“And here I thought you’d be able to use your Eton mess to seduce someone into liking you but it looks like he’s seduced _you_ by eating it,” Nick chimed in, always happy to get back on this particular topic.

“Shush, Nicholas, I’m serious.” That was a surprise. Both Eugene and Nick stared blankly at Seiji. “You know Jesse doesn’t believe in relationships, right?”

“I know how he does things.”

“No need to get defensive, I wasn’t passing judgment on his habits. I suppose I only meant to caution you. I can’t say I understand why one would even want to be friends with Jesse, but you seem extremely fond of him. If I was mistaken and you’ve got no feelings for him, I’d strongly recommend you keep it that way. It would be in your best interest.”

“Aww, Seiji,” Eugene grinned, feeling a genuine swell of affection for his grumpy underclassman and catching him in a headlock/hug combo. “You’re a sweetheart, looking out for me. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna get my heart broken by Jesse Coste.”

* * *

Eugene wasn’t in love with Jesse but he wasn’t exactly thrilled to run into a tall and attractive boy on his way to Jesse’s room. ‘Run into’ almost literally. The guy exploded out of the room as Eugene was about to pull the door open. He looked as surprised by Eugene as Eugene was by him. If he was forming any judgments or opinions on the implications of a second boy summoned to the room he’d just left, Eugene didn’t see. He was in the room before the shock wore off the other guy’s face.

“So, that’s new,” Eugene said, thumbing over his shoulder. No questions what he was talking about. Jesse made a dismissive noise. “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you need me for tonight?”

“I already had the room, it seemed efficient to have you over for company after Lars left.”

 _Lars,_ Eugene mouthed, testing out the absurd name in his mouth with a mocking smirk. He’d looked like a Lars, too.

“Double dipping, huh? But can I ask—at what point in your Lars adventure did you decide to call me over?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not really, but I hope for his sake you were tactful and discreet about it.”

“I just met him, it’s not like he can have too many complaints. And he didn’t,” Jesse clarified.

“Riiiight,” Eugene drew out the word, watching Jesse closely. This wasn’t really like him. At least, it never had been. But…

Eugene covered what difference there was between himself and Jesse, who abandoned the task of fastening his school button-down as Eugene accosted him, grabbing the back of Jesse’s neck and yanking him down. Jesse’s hair smelled like—

“Strawberries,” Eugene murmured, releasing Jesse and stepping back. Jesse appeared baffled, and slightly ruffled, like a bird with all its feathers puffed out. Then he narrowed eyes at Eugene.

“It’s the middle of the week, why would I have been at home?”

“Why are you calling me so late after a hookup?” Eugene countered. “It doesn’t look like you’re in need of any comfort food this fine evening.”

“If you don’t want to be here, you can leave,” Jesse glowered. “I’m a person outside of needing comfort, you know.”

Jesse’s warning eyes and puckered face fit perfectly with the busy pacing and tidying he started doing around the room. Not that there was anything remotely out of place. In the _room_ , anyway.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Eugene said, watching Jesse fluff a couch pillow that neither needed it nor looked any better for it.

“Then how did you mean it? Because it sounds to me like you’re giving me lip—,”

“Lip?”

“I didn’t ask you here to be judged.”

“I wasn’t judging, I just—,” _want to know why you’d rub it in my face like that._ “Look, you’ve been clear from the start that I’m not getting _that,”_ Eugene tilted his head at the bedroom, “from you, cut it with the gimmicks.”

Maybe Jesse and Seiji could get along on some level because this conversation was feeling a lot like the one he’d had at dinner.

“I wasn’t playing any gimmicks,” Jesse protested, “it’s not my fault Lars stayed longer than I’d anticipated or that you came over so quickly. You can leave, I’ve changed my mind, I actually don’t want to see you tonight.”

“You gonna keep bratting at me or do you want to tell me what’s going on?“

“Nothing. And I’m not—,” Jesse aborted the sentence, deciding that Eugene’s choice of words was too undignified for him to repeat. Eugene stared him down, waiting for him to tire of this game and just say what he wanted. “Does there have to be something going on for me to want to call you?”

“Uh, in my experience, yeah,” Eugene said with amusement before reading Jesse’s petulant expression and realizing it had been a serious question.

“I’m actually a delight, I’ll have you know. People like me. A lot. And they like just spending time with me.”

“I like spending time with you too,” Eugene said, earning a glare from Jesse that had the heat of embarrassment behind it rather than the heat of ire. “I’m serious, Jess, I wouldn’t spend so much time with you if I didn’t like to,” he pointed out.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jesse said, finally ceasing in his pointless tidying and standing with crossed arms in front of Eugene. Eugene would still classify this as bratting, but he could work with it.

“Cool. That’s good.” A little confusing, but good.

“I just thought I’d like to see you and I was getting a room anyway.”

Eugene still wondered—just fleetingly before he shoved the thought away—where, exactly, in the interaction with Lars Jesse had had time to think of Eugene. To want to see him and send out a text asking him over.

“And I thought a cookie sounded good,” Jesse added as an afterthought.

“If you don’t have any wounds to lick then I’m putting you to work,” Eugene told him, grinning at the frown line between Jesse’s light eyebrows.

After acquiring all the needed components, Eugene got Jesse in the kitchen and had him help make the cookies. Jesse, predictably, complained the whole time, and he shrieked when Eugene puffed a little handful of flour in his face for all his complaints.

“It’s got in my hair,” Jesse accused, “now I’ll have to shower before bed.”

“You’re welcome. It’s best practice anyway.”

“To shower after baking?”

“Don’t get smart with me,” Eugene laughed. Jesse didn’t. Looking over at him, he seemed uncomfortable. Eugene couldn’t think how he’d managed that when Jesse had never been ashamed of his habits before and had, on occasion, been known to try and taunt Eugene for not being included in those habits.

Rather than try to delve into Jesse’s mind, Eugene handed him a chunk of cookie dough and crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter and setting his eyes on Jesse in a posture that offered his full attention. Jesse ate the cookie dough and joined Eugene by the counter, hopping up and white-knuckling the edge of it.

“Sometimes I want to scream at Dad that I am what I am and he can’t just pretend it away.”

Eugene’s gut clenched, as it always did at this topic. He hurt for Jesse—he could only imagine how bad Jesse hurt for it.

“But I’m scared to. He knows I’m—,” Jesse’s face twisted. That made Eugene hurt too.

“Gay?”

“He walked in on me, I told you that.”

“I remember.”

“But I’m scared of what could happen if I confronted him with it," Jesse admitted, small and defeated. This wasn't a truth he often admitted to himself. And now he was admitting it to Eugene. "If I really made him see me. What if he cut me off or kicked me out? I keep trying to be the son he’s always wanted, I try to make up for it so he won’t mind so much about this one thing but I don’t think it’s working. I think he already—and if I made him acknowledge it—? What if he didn’t—what if he loved me less? What if he stopped loving me at all?”

“I don’t know how he could ever stop loving you,” Eugene said quietly. From what he understood of Jesse’s father, he really did love Jesse. Just not enough, as far as Eugene was concerned. Not good enough either. “But you don’t have to talk to him about it if you don’t want. Only you can make the call and know what’s right for you. It’s fucking bullshit you have to feel this way at all.”

Eugene was sure if _he’d_ ever been caught with a boy by his dad, there would have been some god awful dad joke and an awkward exit, followed by vigorous back clapping afterward. Probably a hug too. And an obligatory _I love you and I always will._ Jesse deserved that. Not _if you must do that, don’t do it under my roof._

“Hey, come on off the counter now,” Eugene told Jesse decisively, leaving it himself and beckoning Jesse to follow.

“Why?”

“Because I’d like to hug you.” If Robert Coste wasn’t going to give Jesse the hugs he deserved, then Eugene damn well would. It was a startled moment before Jesse obliged and landed nimbly on the kitchen floor, settling into Eugene’s arms without Eugene having to collect him into them. “You’re a spoiled brat with a high opinion of yourself so I’m only going to say this once. You’re amazing, Jesse. You excel at everything you do and I’m impressed to hell by you. You’re just about the best fencer I’ve ever seen and I _know_ you’re going places, bud. I hope you’ll let me hang around to see you get there. And I don’t know what more your dad could want in a son. I really mean that. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re not defective and you don’t need to try so damn hard to be perfect to make up for something that’s not even broken. It’s a shame your dad can’t see that. And it’s not your job to make him see it either. I don’t know how to help you in this and it kills me because I’d like to make it better but I can’t even offer any advice besides be you and be safe and be unashamed. Because you’re amazing.”

Jesse didn’t speak. He clung tight and long and Eugene thought he felt a couple tremors, a little wetness at his neck. He didn’t mention it.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse sounded stuffy and tired when he spoke. “I really was fine. I didn’t ask you to come listen to my issues this time. It just happens sometimes after I…”

Eugene didn’t need him to finish the sentence. It made sense for thoughts like that to get dredged up after Jesse hooked up with other guys in this hotel he came to because he wasn’t allowed to be with guys, to be this version of himself, under his father’s roof that should have been _Jesse’s_ roof too.

“It’s not your fault I’m such a good listener,” Eugene said seriously, which earned him a laugh.

“Eugene?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you need someone to listen, you can come to me too.”

“That’s not how this works, Exton Mess,” Eugene joked.

Jesse detached himself from Eugene’s shoulder and leaned back in his arms a little. Just enough to stare stonily into his eyes but no more than that.

“I want it to work like that. I don’t want to be the only one getting anything from this—I want to be there for you too. And I know you hurt sometimes so don’t even try to say you never need comfort. I know you don’t like sweets and you’re Mr. Brightside—,”

“I feel like I should start singing.”

“Stop it, I’m being serious,” Jesse said, hitting Eugene’s arm in light frustration. It was kind of cute. “My point is, I know you’re not like me but I know you can’t always get back up without hurting from falling down too, and I want you to tell me the next time you do. I want to be there for you even though you don’t like admitting to yourself that you need someone sometimes.” Jesse’s seriousness melted into uneasiness and Eugene knew it was his fault for staring but he couldn’t help it. “What? You didn’t think I could be anything besides someone in constant need of comfort? I can be a good friend, too, and—and stop looking at me like that.”

“Sorry,” Eugene offered with a laugh, shaking out of his surprise. “I’m just not used to people talking to me like that.” Not many people took note of all the bruises that happened every time Eugene bounced back up. He hadn’t expected _Jesse_ to notice. “I promise I’ll come to you next time I’m hurting.”

“Good.”

“Thank you.” Eugene meant it, strange as it was. All of it; the thanks and the promise alike. Maybe this friendship wasn’t as one-sided as he’d thought. Maybe it didn’t have to be. Maybe it could be… Eugene remembered a dozen different things—from his first meeting with Jesse, to his haughty behavior at regionals, to Lars leaving tonight and Jesse buttoning up his shirt as he greeted Eugene.

“You’re welcome,” Jesse said, seeming shy and pleased. And still tucked neatly in Eugene’s arms. This whole thing was getting confused.

Eugene kicked up his mouth in a grin. “I really shouldn’t be so surprised that you can be sweet.”

“Why?” Jesse asked, knowing well enough to be sniffing for a punch line. He got it. “I swear if you call me Exton Mess one more time, I’m having you banned from the hotel.”

“I’ve already called you it at least once tonight.”

“Have you?” Jesse was plainly horrified as he searched through his memories of the night for the endearment.

“See? You’re stuck with it, you respond to it without thinking.”

“Oh, you’re the worst,” Jesse declared with another bat to his arm before pulling away. It was for the best.

“Sure I am. Now let’s bake these cookies.”


	8. Chapter 8

Eugene never saw another boy leave Jesse’s room when he came over but, after Lars, Eugene always wondered how often Jesse double dipped. Not that it mattered. Whether all Eugene’s visits were his alone or all of them were shared, there’d been a definite pick up in these meetings since Lars and they weren’t all prompted by some grievance or distress of Jesse’s.

Eugene was fairly sure Jesse properly considered them friends these days. A reciprocal relationship, that’s what Jesse had indicated he wanted. It wasn’t something Eugene would have ever expected from the boy he’d first made Eton mess for. That boy had interested Eugene enough to keep coming back. Now, though, Eugene didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to lose this Jesse that he’d somehow managed to gain.

“I want Eton mess,” Jesse declared, licking a smudge of whipped cream from his strawberry poundcake off his finger.

“You’re unbelievable.” Eugene shook his head fondly. “How can you even think of wanting something else after eating all that?”

“Because you’ve only made it for me once and it’s my favorite and the strawberries made me think of it.” As Eugene watched, Jesse scooped up another fingerful of cream. He made it look so good,Eugene could almost believe it was half as delicious as all that. But, really, Eugene liked to watch Jesse’s enjoyment of the treats more than he had any real interest in eating them for himself. Of that temptation, at least, he was free.

“Eton mess for my Exton Mess. I’ll make it for you next time, promise.”

“Splendid,” Jesse purred smugly, looking as if he’d just won some tricky and impressive debate. And Eugene just couldn’t let that stand.

Jesse, as ever, was situated on the counter. Very innocently, Eugene moseyed up to where he sat.

“What are you—?”

Apparently, Eugene couldn’t pull off innocent. He abandoned all subtlety and went in for the kill. Jesse yelled as Eugene grabbed him. It wasn’t hard at all to toss Jesse over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“If you keep struggling, I’ll drop you,” Eugene warned, pretending to let his hold on Jesse slip for a laugh.

“Eugene! Stop!” Jesse’s screeching was ignored because it was mixed with laughter. This wasn’t what Jesse sounded like when he was genuinely upset, so Eugene continued to lumber around the room, Jesse clutching to his back as best he could with little laughs transferring directly from his chest to Eugene’s shoulder.

“Never! I’ve captured you and now I’m going to steal you away to my evil tower!”

“You’re such a dork, put me down,” Jesse insisted through breathy laughter.

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.”

Eugene tossed Jesse, which resulted in more screaming and some wild flailing. Jesse grabbed hold of Eugene’s shirt, bringing Eugene toppling down after him. They landed with a _thwump_ on the couch, Eugene only just managing to catch himself on an arm braced on the cushion by a blond head, but the fall had still landed him neatly on top of Jesse. Eyes wide enough to completely show off blue irises stared up at Eugene.

“You asshole,” he got out, hand tight in Eugene’s shirt.

“You said you wanted down,” Eugene grinned at him.

“I didn’t mean I wanted to be thrown.”

“Aw, don’t pull out the pout, I was only throwing you onto the couch.”

“I couldn’t see that.”

“Like I’d hurt you. Come on, you know I wouldn’t just throw you with no plan.”

“I’d like it better if you wouldn’t throw me at all,” Jesse grumbled, letting his fingers loose from Eugene’s shirt to trail down to his bicep instead. “If you really dropped me, I’d never forgive you.”

“I didn’t. And I won’t.” Eugene was still smiling and Jesse’s unimpressed face made him smile wider. “You had fun, admit it.”

“I won’t,” Jesse said but a little smile broke its way into his previously unimpressed face. “Next time, I expect to be handled with more care. I felt like that princess in Shrek.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know her name’s Fiona.”

“Whatever. I can do better than an ogre.”

“You cannot. Shrek’s the best. No one can do better than Shrek.”

Jesse fell back against the couch, head hitting the armrest as he laughed. Eugene looked down at him in satisfaction. There was nothing like roughhousing to put someone in a giggly mood. But Eugene stopped laughing soon enough, distracted by Jesse’s arched neck, pale and exposed and shifting with little bouts of laughs. Eugene noticed then that Jesse’s hand around his arm had tightened.

It was time to put a stop to this.

Eugene pushed himself up and shoved Jesse’s legs off the couch so he could sit properly. It had the effect of forcing Jesse upright too. He was still giggling intermittently.

“Man, it wasn’t even that funny.” But Eugene found his laughter reignited by Jesse’s.

“Do you want to watch it? That movie?” Jesse asked. Eugene glanced at the clock but it was a meaningless gesture and they both knew it.

* * *

Jesse sat curled against the arm of the couch, bare feet tucked under him and long legs as enticing as ever, swathed in the soft fabric Jesse preferred for leisurewear. He wasn’t watching the TV anymore, though Eugene had asked for input on what to put on next if he didn’t want to watch _Shrek 2_. It was time to leave now that the movie was over, but Eugene didn’t feel like leaving, just like he thought Jesse hadn’t felt like letting him leave when suggesting they watch _Shrek_ in the first place. It had only been a thing to do. And now it was Eugene’s turn to find something to do, but he was having a hard time focusing on the TV as he scrolled through options.

Jesse watched him intently, curiously, carefully. Eugene had to wonder what that was about.

“Eugene,” Jesse said, soft and assured, asking for his full attention. Eugene gave it, giving up on the remote for now and tossing it lightly to the coffee table. “I’ve been wondering for a while now, but are you straight?”

Of all the things Eugene might have expected, _that_ wasn’t it. He laughed, the question was both unexpected and hilarious.

“What?” He wheezed. Jesse didn’t crack a smile.

“It would make a lot of sense,” Jesse continued seriously, cocking his head at Eugene’s amusement. “In fact, it’s the only explanation I can come up with. If you were just messing with me that first night by the fountain, it would explain why you turned me down in the end.”

“You’re so full of yourself, Jess.” Eugene’s mouth was still kicked up in a grin even as he spoke. “Truly, you never cease to amaze me. I’m sorry I didn’t fall all over myself for you but you’ve seriously got to learn how to deal with people not always giving you what you want.”

“Then why haven’t you hit on me since?” Jesse demanded, posture twisting away from the armrest and toward Eugene. “You haven’t tried anything with me and you’ve had plenty of opportunity. It would make a lot of sense if you’re actually straight.”

“I promise I like boys,” Eugene said as earnestly as he could manage. This wasn’t where he’d expected this night to go at all.

“Then,” Jesse leaned forward, pushing himself even closer with a flick of his eyes over Eugene, “am I not pretty enough?”

“You’re plenty pretty.”

“I think you’re pretty too.”

“Thanks, I try.”

“Eugene,” Jesse’s voice had gone low and sultry, his body had edged closer still. “Why don’t you try something?”

It wasn’t a genuine question. It was a suggestion. An invitation. A declaration.

Jesse was tantalizingly close. Tantalizingly beautiful. Eugene couldn’t help but admire him as he leaned in close. Close enough for Eugene to feel breath warm against his cheek. Jesse’s hair untucked from his ear and fell in a curtain over his face. Eugene could practically feel the softness of that hair. Of those lips, so close to finding his…

Eugene darted a hand between them, pressing pointer and index finger to Jesse’s lips and pushing him back. Pushing him away.

“Bad idea,” he said. Eugene expected Jesse to pull away and snap, to go red-faced and defensive. He didn’t. He didn’t pull away at all.

Defiantly keeping his eyes steady on Eugene’s, Jesse parted his lips, tilted his head, and took Eugene’s fingers into his mouth. Eugene didn’t process what was happening at first. It was too bizarre, too wholly unexpected. Jesse Coste was sucking on his fingers and looking unbelievably sexy as he did. His lips were pink, his mouth soft and warm and inviting and— _oh, holy shit, this is bad news._

Eugene pulled away. Completely. Jesse had made it clear he had no intention to, so Eugene had been left no choice but to leave the couch, exhaling a long breath as he stood and looked very briefly down at Jesse, still sat leaning on the couch, eyes hooded and lips wet and parted, so perfectly pink it was obscene.

Because he needed to do _something,_ Eugene walked briskly into the kitchen and washed his hands, no-nonsense. _Now_ Jesse’s face was puckering up in anger and scorn.

“If you like boys, what’s the matter? You just said yourself that I’m pretty.” Jesse stood and came after Eugene into the kitchen. “Don’t you want anything more from me? Don’t you like me?”

“Oh no, I’m not falling into that trap.”

“Trap?” Jesse asked, affronted.

“Yeah, your whole,” Eugene gestured at the bedroom. Wrong move. Jesse flushed a deep and angry crimson.

“Are you calling me a slut?” He demanded.

“No,” Eugene said, hands up placatingly. He somehow doubted Jesse could be placated. “No, of course not. I just don’t want to be a part of this, that’s all.”

“What’s _this?”_

“The way you use your hookups to alleviate your need for approval and then send them on their way, never to be seen again so they can’t change their minds and decide they don’t actually like you.” Eugene knew he was bungling this on a grand scale. He wasn’t used to being rattled but he kept seeing Jesse’s pretty lips and it was doing a number on his concentration and his ability to communicate.

“You don’t know anything,” Jesse spat, too angry to be talked down. And all because Eugene couldn’t figure out how to fucking use his words.

“I’m not trying to judge you, Jess, I’m just saying that you’ve got a whole coping mechanism set up around this place and it’s not exactly a healthy one. You can’t just get your fix on guys calling you pretty and taking you to bed forever, and I don’t feel like being another disposable bandaid, so I’m not falling for that.”

“Fine, you can leave now.”

“Jess—,”

“Don’t call me that. And don’t call me anything. I don’t have to stand here and let you say that shit to me. I must have been seriously out of my mind to ever think I wanted anything to do with you. Actually, you know what I think it is? I think I bought into your whole act because of pity. And because I liked not being the most pathetic one around—the biggest disappointment. I’m one of the best fencers in the nation, I’m on track to be an Olympian and there’s no way I’m not heading towards the Ivy Leagues. I’ve got the looks and the talent and the smarts and I’m going places and sometimes that’s not enough for Dad but it’s enough for everyone else. But _you,”_ Jesse laughed, a world away from the happy giggles of only hours ago. “You’re the real disappointment, aren’t you? How long have you been attending Kings Row schools? Since kindergarten? So that you could fence, isn’t that right? Your mom picks up extra shifts and your whole family has to accommodate for you and your expensive school—which isn’t even the best, not by a long shot—and, remind me, when is it that you even made the fencing team? Just this year, right? And weren’t you only a reserve? All those burdens on your family and for what? For you. For nothing.”

It took a minute for it to sink in. And, when it did, Eugene was surprised to hear how much he’d shared with Jesse. He didn’t get that deep with most his friends. Then the shock wore off, washed away by a wave of anger. Jesse stared him in the eye, defiant and smug and awful. _Hurting,_ a small part of Eugene said, _he’s hurting too. Because of what you said._ But, right now, that small part was all too easy to squelch. Jesse and he agreed on one thing. Eugene didn’t have to stand here and let Jesse say that shit to him either. So he didn’t. He swiped his phone off the counter, knocking the leftover pound cake to the floor in his uncaring hurry, and he stalked to the door.

“That’s right,” Jesse’s raised voice was turning into a scream. “Fuck off! And don’t ever come back!”

“I won’t,” Eugene promised, slamming the door behind him on the way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to say that neither Shrek nor finger sucking was intended to be a part of this fic, much less in the same chapter, but sometimes these things happen and I am powerless to stop them
> 
> ~~roughhousing, Shreck, and a botched seduction--oh my!~~


	9. Chapter 9

Eugene’s skin felt uncomfortably hot when he stepped into the late spring breeze. He wasn’t used to feeling the sting of shame in his cheeks and was grateful for the night air to cool him down. Instead of calling an Uber, Eugene started the walk back to school on foot. He’d probably summon one later but he wanted the walk. The cool air. The undeniable feeling of doing something. He wondered if he could sneak into the gym this late to pump some iron when he got back to Kings Row.

It was half an hour into his walk when he realized he’d left his favorite school sweater back at the hotel. Would Jesse throw it out, he wondered, or shove it in some corner of his room and forget about it? Assuming he even noticed Eugene had left it with him at all.

“Damn it,” Eugene swore under his breath. His walk wasn’t helping much with his churning mood, so he pulled out his phone and did the only thing there was to do.

“Eugene?”

“Hey, Ma. Can I come home this weekend?”

“Of course,” Mom said at once, and he could hear her moving in the background. “Are you at the school?”

“Yeah, just about.”

“I’m on my way.”

Eugene laughed. “I’m fine, it’s no rush. You or Dad can just pick me up tomorrow.”

“If it’s all the same to you, Gene, I’d rather have you home tonight if that’s where you want to be.” Her worry was evident. And, probably, warranted. Eugene had never called asking to come home before. If he were thinking of Jesse, he’d think that this further inconvenience on his mom just proved Jesse’s point more.

He wasn’t thinking about Jesse.

Eugene called an Uber for himself and was back at Kings Row with a packed overnight bag by the time his mom got there. It was late, but Eugene went ahead and texted Coach Williams to let her know he was leaving campus for the weekend. He knew better than to think she’d be angrier about being woken up than not being told when one of her charges left campus for a long period of time. Staying out late or sneaking back in early was fine enough, but going into multiple days away without a word wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Eugene tossed his bag into the backseat of his mom’s car and was hardly in his own seat when she assaulted him with a kiss to the cheek he didn’t even make his usual obligatory protests at.

“It’s good to see you, Gene,” she said, squeezing his knee before retracting the hand to shift the car into drive.

“Yeah, you too,” Eugene agreed.

“The crew will be happy to find you home in the morning.”

At that, Eugene grinned. It had been a minute since he’d had proper time to hang with his siblings.

They rode with the low hum of the radio chasing off any discomfort there might have been at the prolonged quiet. But worried moms could only be expected to stay quiet for so long.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Ma. Promise. I just missed you guys.”

Mom recognized this as the truncated truth it was.

“Alright, if you say so,” she said, all gentle and nice but totally calling him a liar too. “Just remember that if you’re hurting, you’ve got lots of people who are here to listen.”

_Next time you need someone to listen, you can come to me._

But Eugene wasn’t thinking of Jesse or his sincere request for Eugene’s trust and confidences. Wasn’t thinking about Jesse in his arms in any sort of way. Wasn’t thinking of Jesse.

“Gross,” Eugene told his mom with the same feelings-are-icky tone his little brothers liked to pull whenever mushy stuff came up. That made her smile a little. “I know,” he said more seriously, falling back against his seat. “I know I’ve got lots of options. I don’t feel like talking but if something was really wrong, I would. I just wanted to be home for a bit, that’s all.”

Mom nodded and let it drop, seeming comforted from this. Eugene didn’t like talking about all the money that got funneled into Kings Row for him. Mom and Dad would just say not to worry about it and that they loved him and that they didn’t want him to be thinking about that sort of stuff. It just made him feel weird. So he preferred to show his thanks in other ways. Like by never giving up or letting stuff like not getting on the fencing team keep him down. Like by saying ‘I love you’ all the time and ‘thank you’ for all the little things.

* * *

Mom was right. Eugene met the morning with a solid pounce on his stomach, followed shortly after by two more, slightly heavier, sacks of weight. He woke up with a puff of rudely evicted air and found all three of his little brothers piled on top of him. With a roar of laughter, he joined in their roughhousing, getting plenty of headlocks and knuckle rubs—and even some hugs—in before rolling out of bed and ambling into the kitchen with three little ducklings following along behind him. Dad was making waffles, and the other two members of his family were already tucking into breakfast. Dad gave him a quick half-hug, and his mother summoned him over to give her a kiss on the cheek. He caught his little sister in a hug too, though she was too cool to have joined in his wake up call and grumbled at the unbidden affection of the gesture.

“It’s too early in the morning to get mushy, Gene,” she told him, voice grumpy from sleepiness. Mom had probably dragged her out of bed for him.

Nobody mentioned that it was strange of him to be home. They were just glad to have him and Eugene was glad to be here. They watched movies and played games and lazed around talking about school and other odds and ends of life that piled up during Eugene’s semesters away at school.

When it was discovered he’d been taking baking classes, he’d been strong-armed into whipping something up for them. He didn’t foresee needing to flex his baking muscles all that much anymore, so he gave in and delivered his fanciest, stupidest cake. He’d rather send off his time baking with memories of his siblings happily destroying his creation the moment it was finished than what it would have been otherwise: a long mess of confused emotions and words with Jesse.

 _All those burdens on your family and for what?_ Jesse had asked with venomous intent. _For you. For nothing._

But Jesse was wrong. It wasn’t for nothing, not to his family. They didn’t see it that way at all. Didn’t see him as nothing. All the extra work and shuffling involved in Eugene’s education was worth it to the whole lot of them simply because it made him happy. And that was enough for them.

Jesse might never be able to be enough for his father but Eugene could never _not_ be enough for his family and it made Eugene suddenly sad to realize why Jesse couldn’t understand that. Why he thought the way he did, cruel and nasty though he’d been toward Eugene last night, his words only showed how different they were. How lucky Eugene was to have the family he did.

Scruffing up one of his brothers’ hair as they all devoured the chiffon cake, Eugene smiled to himself. He’d needed to come home to remind himself of that.

* * *

When Eugene returned to school Sunday night, he was issued a reminder from Coach of the proper procedure to alert the school you would be off-campus. Mainly, that texting your dorm advisor near midnight with “ _hey coach I’m going home for the weekend be back Sunday. Stay cool xoxo eugene_ 👍🏽✌🏽🏆” wasn’t it. But there was no bite to her rebuke. He thought his text had done the job perfectly. She’d even stayed cool. Which, for Coach Williams, wasn’t saying much. She was just about the coolest person Eugene knew. If she didn’t think saber was cooler than épée she’d be _the_ coolest. He wasn’t ever dumb enough to tell her that, though.

Nick was either the first to figure it out or the first to abandon tact and ask. Thursday afternoon, after school had let off, Nick sought him out on his way to the weight room.

“So did Jesse break your heart or did he break some other part of you when you broke his?” Nick asked, levity a crutch to make the topic easier to tackle. Eugene could understand that. He could even appreciate it.

“Breaking Jesse Coste’s heart, can you imagine?” Eugene was a bit amused at the thought despite himself.

“You’d probably be given a Medal of Honor or something for your contribution to society.”

“You really don’t like him, do you?” Eugene asked with a laugh. Nick shrugged.

“Not really. But you did, I know. So I’m sorry that it didn’t work out.”

“What’s your deal with him, am I allowed to ask?”

“What’s _your_ deal with him?” Nick countered.

“You’ve got me there. Alright, fine, Jesse can be a handful. I thought I could handle that but it’s exhausting, you know? Trying to carry all that baggage for him when he refuses to admit what a heavy packer he is.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“But you don’t know him so your hate is unfounded and, frankly, dude, not real. Dunno what he’s done to you other than the whole Seiji thing—,”

“Seiji wasn’t ever with him.”

“No shit. That’s not what I meant. The rival stuff, let’s say. But I think you’re hating on an idea, not a person. ‘Course, Jesse makes that real easy. I don’t think he likes being seen as anything more than an idea.” And that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? Only an idea, a memory, a suggestion of a person rather than the real deal could be perfect. And Jesse Coste wanted to be perfection itself.

“So I’m not allowed to say mean things about him to cheer you up? That’s no fun,” Nick complained.

“You may say mean things about him to cheer me up but only if you know they’re true,” Eugene said, a reasonable compromise, he thought. Nick frowned as he considered what he could say under the new constraints.

“He’s an ass who took advantage of your caring nature, I’m sure of that.” Nick looked triumphant. Eugene snorted.

“Didn’t realize I had a caring nature.”

“You totally do, you’re such a brother hen.”

Eugene laughed outright, shaking his head at his friend. “Don’t let that get around, it’d completely ruin my reputation.”

“Sure,” Nick agreed with an unconcerned shrug.

“Wait, shit, _is_ that my reputation?”

“Only to the people that matter,” Nick told him reassuringly. Eugene wondered which people Nick counted in that group. But he had a good idea of who Nick would consider important. And Eugene’s thoughts matched pretty neatly with his. “The team’s all worried and shit. Harvard says you’ve never disappeared all weekend like that before.”

“Really?” Eugene was a little surprised to hear that Harvard would even know that. He hadn’t been close with his captain until this year when, well, Harvard _was_ his captain.

“Yeah. And you’ve been to the weight room every day this week. Don’t think I don’t know what that means because Seiji’s the same way. He goes fencing when he’s upset.”

“I’ve gotten more concern this week than I know what to do with.” Eugene delivered a little punch to Nick’s arm out of affection. “It’s sweet of you and the boys to worry but it’ll take more than Jesse Coste to topple me. I’m all good.”

Eugene’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out with a tad more urgency than he usually would have. He hated to admit it but it had been that way all week. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind why.

Before Eugene could reply to the message with a _not today_ in answer to a skating lesson with Tristin, Nick plucked it from his hands. The nerd actually and honestly said _yoink_ as he did. Eugene couldn’t believe he was actually and honestly friends with this joker.

“I know what’ll make you feel better,” Nick said, tapping through Eugene’s phone shamelessly.

“Don’t even think about it,” Eugene said, refraining from lunging for the phone only because he knew Nick would expect it and was fast enough to keep it out of Eugene’s reach.

“Don’t what?”

“I’m serious, you delete Jesse’s contact, I’m going to be real pissed.”

“Why? He’s a—,”

“Nicholas Cox, I will fuck you up. Give me back my phone right now.”

“No need to pull out the voice on me, I’m not doing anything, I swear!” Nick even handed Eugene back his phone after a couple more taps.

“Nick—,” Eugene said after a glance down his recent messages.

“Look closer,” Nick cut him off with a grin. “Relax, I didn’t delete him.”

And Eugene found it. He nodded. Then laughed.

“Pretty good,” Eugene admitted, opening the log and confirming it was really Jesse’s. “Spoiled Brat. It suits him.”

“Sometimes the best revenge is the petty kind.”

“Alright, I admit it, you’ve done it. I’m cheered up. Want to go fence with me? I’ve been at weights all week but Seiji’s on to something with fencing back into a good mood.”

Nick agreed. There’d really been no question as to whether he would. None of them could ever say no to fencing.

“So…is he really that bad?” Nick asked as they walked. It was obvious to Eugene that Nick hadn’t fully meant to ask.

“Jesse?”

“Robert.”

Eugene wasn’t following. Until he tracked Nick’s guilty line of sight and glanced down at the newly minted chat log in his phone again, beyond just the changed name this time.

Spoiled Brat  
  
**5/17/19,** 4:03 PM  
**Spoiled Brat:** Dad asked if I wanted to come home over the weekend   
  
**Eugene:** why?  
  
**Spoiled Brat:** not a clue in the world. Probably to go over some new way I’m a disappointment haha  
  
**Spoiled Brat:** oh god you don’t think he wants to talk about the gay thing do you?  
  
**Eugene:** if he does, will it really be that terrible?  
  
**Spoiled Brat:** probably not. He hasn’t disowned me yet, has he? Still, I think I changed my mind and I’d rather we just never mention it ever  
  
**Eugene:** what about when you get serious? how’s he gonna miss you marrying a boy?  
  
**Spoiled Brat:** who said I’d marry a boy? Or at all. Might be easier to keep it all behind closed doors and in hotel rooms forever  
  
**Eugene:** what if you say you’re busy with school and hang out with me tonight instead?  
  
**Spoiled Brat:** a much better plan. I’ll book the room  
  
**Eugene:** 👍🏽  
  
  
  


“Oh, that.” Eugene heaved a sigh. “Yeah, he’s not as great as you’d really hope. As an idol or a dad or, as far as I can tell, even a person. He’s done a number on Jesse with his terrible parenting skills.”

Eugene noticed the look on Nick’s face was almost a smile. The expression was a bitter and sardonic laugh trapped just behind his lips and pressing them into a strange shape that was hard to look at.

“Would he have been better off without him, do you think?”

“It’s not my place to say. But maybe. He’d have been with his mom then, and I know they get on well. Maybe if she’d just stayed in the picture, he’d be better. I don’t know. I think Robert kind of chased her off, though, so she’s not around enough to counteract all the emotional damage he’s done.” None of this was any of Nick’s business. But something in Eugene’s gut said Nick needed to hear it. His gut sometimes got things before Eugene did, tapped into his subconscious in a way he didn’t always understand. So he followed it and kept speaking. “It’s like his love is conditional. At the very least, Jesse thinks it is, even if he won’t admit it to himself that he does.”

Nick nodded thoughtfully.

“Sounds like a shit dad. I’m glad that I—Seiji’s everything to me, you know? Mom’s not ever going to win any Mother of The Year awards but she doesn’t mind about Seiji. I don’t think I could stand it if I had to feel like any love I have for him was directly siphoning off her love for me. Yeah. That’d suck. I don’t envy Jesse that.”

“Me either.” They took a detour on their way to the gym, Nick’s idea of a joke, leading them off to the edge of a forest Eugene had sent him to on the first day of tryouts. They had a good laugh—and a fun tussle—over it, then headed back on track. Eventually, Eugene had to ask. “Hey, do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“About whatever it is about you and the Costes.”

“No,” Nick said, but he didn’t shut down the way Eugene had sometimes seen him do. “It’s not something I can talk about.”

“Maybe you should try talking to Seiji about it. Whatever it is.”

“Seiji?” Nick asked, surprised at the suggestion.

“He’s your everything, isn’t he? Talking about it might help. And he’d listen.”

Nick shrugged. “Maybe. What about you? Do you want to talk to Jesse again?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“If you do, you should be the one to call him. Make him listen to you for once.”

“Solid advice, kiddo, we’ll see if I need it.”

Eugene wasn’t sure if he would. His gut reaction was that he wouldn’t. He was thinking that it was pretty unlikely he’d ever make Eton mess again.


	10. Chapter 10

Eugene didn’t drop out of baking classes with Bobby. He’d tried but Bobby’s sad eyes had suckered him into backtracking at once. He didn’t even stop accompanying Bobby to the kitchens for experiments and test runs and tastings. They weren’t skills he really needed anymore, with weeks gone by since he’d spoken to the reason he’d gotten into baking at all, but he liked the time with Bobby during their kitchen adventures, and Dante, too, during their lessons.

Sometimes Nick tagged along on baking adventures. Twice now, he’d accompanied Eugene and Bobby to the kitchens to make sundaes. So now Eugene knew which dessert he’d managed to tempt Seiji with.

It was the last day of Mrs. Emily’s baking class, another group day. Nick had even sweet-talked Seiji into attending too. In theme with the final class last semester, they were meant to create Pinterest worthy treats. Last time had been doll cakes. Eugene had tried to take it seriously but as soon as Nick had iced what was supposed to be a decoration on their doll’s skirt that had looked more like a pile of shit, things had gone downhill fast. The finished product was, perhaps, the biggest disappointment Eugene had ever delivered in the eyes of an adult. Mrs. Emily gave him and Nick some serious side-eye as she demoed the basic idea of tonight’s creation.

Eugene grinned back at her reassuringly. There was no need for her to worry. Tonight they were making sharks.

“We’re gonna make the coolest fucking shark ever,” he said as soon as they were set free to their stations. He pointed a stern finger at Nick. “Capiche?”

“Got it, boss,” Nick said with a roll of his eyes.

They decided to work as a whole five-person team instead of breaking into smaller pairs like they always had before. The shark called for extra manpower. And pairs didn’t work so great when there was an odd number. Luckily, Eugene didn’t believe in feeling like a fifth wheel any more than he did a third wheel.

They all bumbled about the kitchen in a happy clatter. Seiji held his own surprisingly well. Figured. Jesse could hardly measure flour without making a mess and complaining about at least three different things included in the tiny task. Eugene smiled faintly at the memory of baking cookies with an unwilling Jesse. He’d probably be more motivated to hone his skills in the kitchen if he knew Seiji was good in it too.

“What’s got you smiling?” Bobby asked.

“Sharks,” Eugene replied. “Fucking love sharks.”

“Hey, Eugene,” Nick said, knocking a shoulder against Eugene’s. “I think the guy at table four is checking you out.”

Eugene looked over and back again with only flickering interest. “Not my type.”

“Then what is your type?” Bobby again. “You could have your pick of anyone here.”

“It’s always been my dream to date fifty-year-old women, thanks for helping me to achieve that.”

“They’re not all fifty-year-old ladies. The guy Nick pointed out is handsome, isn’t he? And Raina at table six is sweet on you too, she’s a cutie. You said so yourself, the first lesson you came for.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. You gave her your Eton mess after class because hers flopped.”

“Huh. I’d forgotten that.” It was strange to Eugene that Jesse wasn’t the only person he’d given that dish to. Wasn’t even the first. “Fuck Eton mess, I still say it’s the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever learned to make.”

Nick and Seiji glanced at each other in a knowing sort of way. They both knew, of course, that Jesse liked Eton mess. He launched some too-loose buttercream at both of them for their silent nosing into his business. They got him back by being gross helping the other clear his face of sugary frosting.

“Jesse still hasn’t called, I’m guessing?” Bobby asked quietly while the freshies were distracted with each other.

“We’ve been over this, Bobby. Jesse and I weren’t that. Whatever we were, we’re not anymore.”

“If he apologized, would you accept it?”

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“I’m betting he did something if it got _you_ mad enough to cut him out of your life.”

“He just said some stuff, don’t worry about it.”

“What kind of stuff?” Bobby asked sharply enough to draw the attention of the other three people at their station. Bobby wasn’t often fierce or sharp-tongued. Eugene was glad for all the baking if only because it had earned him that sort of fierce protection from the little spitfire. They’d always been friendly but, over the last semester, Bobby had become one of Eugene’s closest friends, right there with the team.

“Not racist stuff, chillax,” Eugene waved Bobby off, correctly reading his concerns. Bobby nodded and spoke in his familiar soft way again.

“I still can’t believe he hasn’t called to apologize. Don’t you want him to?”

Eugene thought about it. He’d stopped jumping for his phone every time it buzzed in a text or call. He shook his head.

“No.” Eugene could imagine the sort of apology Jesse might issue. He didn’t want a text with a terse _sorry_ or a wall of excuses. He didn’t want a call with a complaint and a summons and a sorry slipped in between the words. But anything beyond that was beyond Jesse’s capability. Jesse didn’t do second chances and, technically, Eugene had already been on his second chance. It hadn’t worked. For a lot of reasons and on both sides. They hadn’t worked.

“Eugene,” Nick said, shifting nervously as he watched Eugene. “I think I should—,”

“Everyone should be onto the finishing touches!” Mrs. Emily called. “Ten minutes before showcase and taste test!”

Their shark was looking pretty damn good but he was missing some teeth and other odd ends so they kicked into high gear.

During the gallery stroll of a showcase, the boy from table four found Eugene and they talked. Eugene recognized a pick up when he saw one and, though he didn’t feel all that enthusiastic about the boy, he _was_ handsome. No blond hair or blue eyes or long legs but that had never really been Eugene’s type. And it was flattering to be approached. Fun. Getting back in the game wasn’t a bad idea and, presumably, he could use his baking skills to impress this boy so he’d have some use for them. So he let the boy give him his number and pocketed it. He didn’t plan on programming it into his phone but who knew?

Rounding back to his table, Eugene grinned and declared to his crew that their shark was the best in the room. They all agreed. Except Bobby, who said all the sharks were lovely.

As the laughter died down and their shark was cut into, Eugene turned to Nick.

“Oh yeah, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

“Nothing,” Nick said shiftily. Then he smiled. “Just that you should give Roy a chance, he seems nice. You should call him some time or you might lose track of him forever now that the baking thing is over.”


	11. Chapter 11

By June, Eugene’s life had settled back into normalcy. He hadn’t ever gone out with Roy but he _had_ saved the number, just in case. The sun was always sticky-hot and the days were long enough for lots of play. Impromptu soccer games and spontaneous fencing matches with anything and everything but proper blades had colored his days and it was fun. Eugene had everything he needed.

All the seniors would be graduating soon and the whole group of old and new and, very likely in Bobby’s case, future fencing team members were hyperaware of it, spending more and more time together. Sometimes they even went to the gym to fence like proper and respectable folk. School was almost over, graduation was mere days away. Eugene was having a hard time picturing the next year with Harvard and Aiden and Kally and Tanner all gone.

Today was one of the rare days in recent memory that what Eugene thought of as his fencing crew wasn’t all hanging together, so he was abducted by Tristin’s lot for a day on the mall. Eugene stayed out with them all day, bumming around on the grassy hills behind the mall and trying tricks in the parking lot on Tristin’s board. He wasn’t half bad at it by now. When they’d exhausted themselves on the blacktop, the bunch of them flooded through the shops, acquiring ice creams and various unnecessary items out of novelty stores. Eugene had gotten a corn soda, chugged it on a dare, and nearly barfed for his hubris. He’d then insisted they get ice cream so he could get the taste of corn fucking soda out of his mouth.

The sun was setting with no acknowledgment from Eugene or his friends as they continued their parade through the mall, not hindered in the slightest by the dimming light. Eugene discarded the paper sheath from his finished ice cream cone. It was the thought of sticky hands rather than the presence of any stickiness on his actual hands that made Eugene glance down the many but shallow stairs to the fountain nestled in a crevice of leafy greenery and cool shade. The water shot high and arced gracefully back down, burbling prettily. Water, in Eugene’s opinion, was there to be played and frolicked in, but the smattering of couples sat around it would probably disdain of him even so much as rinsing his hands in it.

A boy sat at the fountain, very much apart from the rest of the visitors at it. He stood out for more than just his solitude. _Beautiful_ was the word to describe a boy like that, all long legs and sweet yellow hair and features that were carved after an angel’s image when they were set neutrally as they were now. He sat delicately at the edge of the burbling fountain, lit from inside now that the sun had set, and framed both by the light and water behind him. Yeah, Jesse Coste had a way of making even sitting seem special. Another boy had noticed it too and gone to speak with him. As Eugene watched, Jesse sent the boy away, impatience marring his angelic face when he had to reiterate his wishes.

Eugene’s friends called for him, noticing his pace had waned almost to a dead stop. He waved them on without him and they left him to it. It wasn’t uncommon, after all, that he hopped right out of one group and into the next. Eugene watched the boy Jesse had dismissed stomp up the stairs with a grumbled _stupid bitch isn’t that hot anyway._ He thought of pointing out that the guy wouldn’t have hit on Jesse if that was true, but, instead, he found himself strolling down the stairs and bumping shoulders with the guy on his way. It wasn’t Eugene’s fault that he was sturdier.

“That’s an interesting way to pick up guys,” Eugene said, falling casually into the spot next to Jesse, invading some invisible barrier no one else had been allowed—or even dared try—to get through. Jesse’s face, Eugene noticed, _also_ looked angelic when it wore surprise.

“I didn’t come here to pick up guys,” Jesse answered with measured words and tone.

“No?”

“No,” Jesse huffed at Eugene’s clear disbelief. “Not this time. I’ve come here often, actually, hoping to see…” With pursed lips and closed eyes, Jesse took in a deep, steadying breath, looking for all the world like he was steeling himself. When he opened his eyes again, Jesse pivoted his whole body to face Eugene, showing off the hint of desperation in his expression Eugene had missed before. “I know you’re mad at me and you don’t even want to hear it, but I’m sorry. And I wanted to—I needed to say that even if you hate me and never want to see me again after this. I know you blocked my number and I should take the hint but I thought maybe you’d come here again. It’s the only place I know to find you other than your school so I’ve been—,” Jesse gestured at the fountain hopelessly, “waiting for you, I guess. In case you’d listen if you saw me.”

Eugene took his time to process the torrent of words Jesse was spilling out faster than the water running behind them.

“I didn’t block your number,” Eugene said, fixating on the one detail he knew what to do with. Jesse, on the other hand, didn’t know what to do with that at all and he frowned at Eugene, a myriad of responses flitting behind his eyes. Obviously, Jesse thought Eugene was lying but didn’t know how to say so without sounding accusatory. “I didn’t…” Eugene started again, pulling out his phone to prove it. Then he remembered Nick stealing it away from him and tapping at the screen. _You should be the one to call him._ A lot of things clicked into place then. “Nick, you sneaky little shit,” Eugene muttered, remembering also Nick’s small anxieties lately and his push for Eugene to call people he really wanted to. If Eugene had ever tried to contact Jesse he would have discovered the blocked number himself. But he’d never tried.

“Is that—I’m sorry, but is that _my_ name?” Jesse was staring down at Eugene’s phone, which was navigated to his number through the blocked contacts page. He sounded so genuinely bewildered that Eugene laughed. Leave it to Jesse to be unable to pass up the opportunity to get his feathers ruffled.

“Fitting, right?” Eugene asked, but, at Jesse’s miserable shrug, followed up with, “I’m kidding. Mostly. But either way, I didn’t set it to that. My friend did, right after blocking you. I didn’t notice the blocking part.”

“You didn’t think I’d try calling you?”

“Not really.” It was honest but it made Jesse shrink.

“I did. I should have called right away. I shouldn’t have even let you get out of the hotel before going after you but I was—,” Jesse cut off abruptly. “But anyway, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said any of it in the first place and I’m sorry I didn’t say sorry sooner.”

This wasn’t anything like the apologies Eugene had expected. If he’d even let himself expect apologies. There were no excuses or reluctantly and insincerely given _sorry_ s, no attempt to gloss over things. Jesse didn’t even point out that he’d been burned too and wasn’t the only one to blame, which would have been fair. An apology like this was a special kind of love. A way to say _I care about you and I want you back in my life._

“Okay,” Eugene said. “Yeah, okay. Thank you for apologizing, I needed that.”

Jesse’s small, hopeful smile was already pulling at Eugene’s heartstrings.

“Do you give second chances?” Jesse asked, voice as small and hopeful as that smile.

“I’ve got this friend,” Eugene said, “he likes to be first in everything, even in chances. But me? I’m a strong believer in taking as many tries as you need to get it right. And this friend of mine, he once said I should come to him when I needed someone who’d listen. I’d like to take you up on that offer, now, Jess. I’d like to talk.”

“I know just the place we can go. I’d like to talk too. I’d like to listen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready for rapid-fire you guys. I drew up the posting schedule for this with the old release date of Fence: Rivals in mind and while that release date obviously wasn't written in stone, my schedule is written in felt pen in my bullet journal and I'll be damned before I ruin the aesthetic and go off schedule. My point is, the last two chapters will be coming out in _really_ quick succession after this one lmao ✌️


	12. Chapter 12

Jesse looked as unsure of himself as Eugene had ever seen him as they stepped into the hotel room together and he discarded his room key.

“How often did you go to the fountain?” Eugene asked. Jesse took his time composing an answer.

“I don’t know. All the time. More days than not over this last month.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. I’m desperate. I…”

“It’s okay, Jesse. I forgive you, so stop looking at me like that, I’m not about to disappear. But I do think we’ve got some things to talk about.”

“Yes,” Jesse agreed without pause. “I’m sorry about the things I said. I didn’t mean them.”

“It’s okay if you did because it was untrue either way. That’s not the problem. The problem is I don’t talk like that—I don’t tell people about heavy shit that they can’t do anything about. I don’t even dwell on it myself any more than’s productive. So you’ve got to understand it was a bit of a shock to hear you say all that when I don’t talk about my guilt over the financial strain I put on my family or how crazy it drove me to fail at making the team year after year or any of it, not to anyone. Not ever. But, somehow, I told you.”

“And I threw it all back in your face the first chance I got,” Jesse said miserably down at his feet.

“Yeah, you did. And it sucked. And it hurt like a motherfucker, too.”

“What can I do?” Jesse looked up from his feet at last, eyes set on Eugene, earnest and determined. “How can I make it up to you?”

“By not doing it again.”

“And do you think you’ll ever talk to me again like that? I meant it when I said I wanted to listen to your troubles too. I want to help you like you always help me and I know I haven’t done anything to prove that I deserve that kind of trust from you but if you just give me the chance, I’ll do anything.” He looked it, too. Like he really meant that.

“I already said you’ve got a second chance from me. We can try. But you’ve got to stop lashing out just because you’re hurt.”

Jesse looked away again, color taking his cheeks. This, it was clear, Jesse had not wanted to talk about. It was strange of him to pass up the chance to point out his own hurts, but Eugene was starting to see only part of his restraint was due to his sincerity in apologizing to Eugene with no excuses. Jesse didn’t want to get hurt more now by talking about it.

“You should know,” Eugene said, navigating with the utmost care, “that I don’t fluster easy. It takes a hell of a lot to throw me off my stride. But you did. I was distracted and disoriented and I didn’t say things right and I want to say sorry for that.”

“It’s fine,” Jesse hastened. “We don’t have to talk about it. We don’t have to talk about it ever.”

“No, I was out of line. That stuff about your sex life, it wasn’t my place to pass judgment on that. I just didn’t want to lose you. And that’s what I meant to say.”

Jesse’s eyes were back on him, keen with interest and wide with confusion.

“I don’t think I understand.”

“I’ve noticed that you don’t keep lovers around. Actually, you’ve said all the time that you don’t sleep with fencers. With anyone you might end up seeing again. If you’d asked me one of those first nights I came over to try something, I would have. Not a doubt in my mind, I’d have done it gladly. But, getting to know you, I knew I wanted more from you than that. I like talking to you and spending time with you and watching you eat sweets I’ve made for you and I wanted that more than I wanted one night of fun. I didn’t—I _don’t—_ want to be banished from your life so that I never have the chance to change my mind about you. I’d rather be a permanent fixture in your life than one night of it.”

“I didn’t think…”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t say it right. I was too distracted by thoughts of that mouth of yours to think straight, much less talk right. I’m sorry, I know that hurt you. Maybe it still does. But I wasn’t trying to call you a slut. And it really wasn’t my place to criticize how you do things, either. I shouldn’t have implied that sex was an unhealthy coping mechanism for daddy issues, that wasn’t cool of me.”

“Implied? I think you just said that outright,” Jesse said with the ghost of a smile. “You weren’t wrong, though, and I can’t fault you for noticing. You’re too observant.”

“It’s a curse. I’m sorry, Jesse, truly.”

“But, you know, I meant to do it right for once.” Jesse crossed his arms over his chest. It had the effect of looking like he was holding to himself. “You’re right that I liked making sure all those boys I brought here before could only leave with memories of me I knew they liked. I liked the validation and the attention and all the rest, I always like those things. And you’re right that I never seem to be able to get them from Dad so I turn to other people instead. But that wasn’t what I was trying to do with you. I really—I like you. And I wanted you to like me. I wanted you to like me so bad, it’s like, whenever I’m with you, you’ve got a point over me and one more will win you the match. It’s that feeling, all the time. Like I’m _this close_ to losing. But I didn’t want to lose you. I wanted to tie you to me closer so you wouldn’t ever leave me and I tried the only way I know how. I wasn’t going to send you away after, I didn’t want your approval as some fucked up replacement for the approval I can’t ever get from my dad. I just wanted you to like me. I was going to do it all right. For once, I just wanted to do it to feel closer to someone. To feel closer to you.”

Jesse stood very still. It was entirely possible that he was literally holding his breath. For someone with such a fear of rejection, Jesse had bared his heart to Eugene, trusting him not to hurt it. Eugene wouldn’t.

“I like you more than I know what to do with.” Eugene made sure to say the most important thing first, but Jesse seemed to be struggling with absorbing this, so Eugene stepped in closer. “I think you’re very pretty and I think you’re very brave and I think I’ve never been more miserable in my life than this last month without you.”

When Eugene’s advance brought him within arms reach, Jesse loosened of his own accord, hands falling from his own arms to find a hesitant hold on Eugene’s instead.

“Me too. I missed you so much I could have died.”

“Drama queen.” Eugene grinned. Jesse didn’t even protest. He pulled at Eugene’s arms and guided them around his waist, taking his time running his hands back up the length of them to wrap around to his back instead.

“Don’t ever leave me,” Jesse said, a breath away.

“Don’t ever kick me out,” Eugene countered. And there wasn’t even a single breath between them anymore.

Jesse’s mouth was soft and warm, just like it had been in all of Eugene’s guiltiest memories and imaginings. But there was nothing guilty about this, nothing wrong. Jesse was a gorgeous boy, no doubt about it. Enticing and splendid and more tempting than the most atrociously fancy delicacies. Eugene could imagine kissing Jesse like this months ago, back during that first time they’d sat at a fountain together. If he’d let Jesse seduce him away from his friends that night, he’d have felt this warm mouth kissing against his and these manicured fingers scraping through his hair, and these long legs tangling with his as they stumbled closer together. And it would have been good. But it wouldn’t have been this. Eugene was inexpressibly glad that he’d been more in the mood to tease Jesse than to take him at that time. This was better than that ever could have been. Because this was his for as long as he could hold it. Eugene felt like holding it forever, holding Jesse forever.

Everything about this was better for knowing Jesse. Kissing the mouth he’d heard voice so many complaints, petty and serious and everything in between was greatly satisfying. And finding the tongue he’d watched lick cream off fingers was worth every ounce of restraint Eugene had exercised on those occasions. And Jesse’s strawberry-scented hair smelled better and felt softer than Eugene would have thought to notice if he didn’t know Jesse so well. And Eugene was aware of Jesse’s hands, returning again and again to his arms because he’d been expecting it.

“What?” Jesse asked in a gasped breath, leveling an accusatory glare on Eugene. “You’re not supposed to be laughing right now.”

“Sorry,” Eugene said, not sorry at all and his smile surely gave that away to Jesse. “I’m happy. I laugh when I’m happy.”

“You laugh when you’re making fun of me.”

“I’m happy when I’m making fun of you.” At Jesse’s heightened pout, Eugene laughed again, kissing gently at the pout so as not to break it and ruin the picture.

“What are you laughing at?” He insisted.

“I find it funny that of all things to have a thing for, you chose my arms.”

It was hard to tell because Jesse’s face was already blushed pink from the kissing, but Eugene thought he flushed at that, a sort of horrified embarrassment flitting across his face before he buried it in Eugene’s shoulder. Only then, when his voice was sufficiently muffled, did Jesse deign to speak again.

“You noticed?”

“Right away,” Eugene confirmed.

“You’ve got really nice arms,” Jesse said, an accusation or a defense, Eugene couldn’t tell. He laughed once more, then kissed into the whorl of yellow hair Jesse had presented for him, reveling in the way it smelled like Jesse. Eugene kissed his way down to one ear, garnering an interesting little keening sound from Jesse that he definitely planned to tease out again, and then down his neck.

“I think it’s cute of you,” Eugene admitted into Jesse’s neck before he kissed his chosen spot. When Jesse didn’t stop him, he teased some color out of the pale skin there. Although, Eugene had to admit it already had a pretty flush to it. Jesse could blush like nothing Eugene had ever seen before.

Jesse eventually pulled away from Eugene’s shoulder and, for a moment, neither of them did anything more than stare. Eugene was sure Jesse was being hit with his same sense of unreality to realize that this was really happening. They were really here, tied close together in a hotel room empty of clattering bowls or sugary aromas, when it had been weeks since their last encounter. Eugene remembered that night now and it already felt perfectly far behind them. But he remembered suddenly something from before their fight.

“I believe I owe you some Eton mess.”

“Yes,” Jesse agreed, pulling Eugene tighter to him and kissing him again. “First thing tomorrow morning. I’ve got other plans for tonight.”


	13. Epilogue

Eugene woke up tangled in sheets and limbs that didn’t belong to him. It probably should have felt strange to wake in the plush bed of one of Jesse’s favored rooms at The Peak but it didn’t. In honesty, Eugene was so used to waking up immersed in Jesse during his overnight stays here that it felt natural and comfortable, just a step to the left of normal.

Eugene kissed Jesse’s sleeping face lightly before easing himself out of his arms. It was tempting to stay in bed and wait for Jesse to wake up so they could laze about their morning together but Eugene had other plans for this morning and there would always be next time. Still, after procuring pants and finding his shirt, Eugene couldn’t resist another quick taste of Jesse’s skin, this time finding a nicely blooming hickey he’d left on Jesse’s chest to press his lips against. Jesse groaned in some kind of protest but what, exactly, the protest was for, Eugene couldn’t be sure. He could make a guess, though. Pulling the twisted sheet straight, Eugene tugged it and the duvet snuggly up over Jesse’s body, tucking him in. That satisfied the sleeping boy well enough and Eugene left him to continue on sleeping.

Room service was fast and expensive, as expected from a place like this. Eugene felt absolutely no guilt charging his abnormal order to the room. Robert deserved the pull on his pocket and Jesse always pulled on it freely.

“Eugene?” Jesse asked, stumbling from the room long after Eugene had left it.

“Good morning,” Eugene greeted him, swinging over for his third stolen kiss of the day, this one to Jesse’s temple.

“Mmmh,” Jesse returned, briefly pressing his head into Eugene’s neck.

“Sleep well?”

Jesse nodded.

“I thought you’d left,” he said after another moment. Eugene took his hand and led him to the kitchen, leaving him, not by the stools, but by the counter because, by now, Eugene knew perfectly well where Jesse would sit.

“Nah,” Eugene said with a gentle smile. “I just thought you might like some breakfast, that’s all. I’d have given it to you in bed but you decided to come out of it ahead of schedule. Here.” Eugene pressed the fancy glass he’d requested from the staff into Jesse’s hands and watched the delight take Jesse’s face.

“Eton mess!” He beamed as if it were a terribly wonderful and rare thing to be presented with.

With one hand at the counter’s edge, Jesse made ready to hop onto it. Foreseeing disaster in the sleepy and one-handed maneuver, Eugene caught Jesse around the waist as he jumped and helped guide him safely into place. He got a kiss on the cheek instead of a scolding for his efforts, which meant Jesse was in an extremely good mood.

Jesse ate the ridiculously froofy dessert with the same reverence he’d eaten it the first time Eugene had made it for him. Looking back, Eugene had to wonder if he’d already been doomed to fall for Jesse from his very first bite. Eugene traced Jesse’s swallows down his pretty throat and watched his tongue dart out to catch a bit of cream caught at the corner of his mouth. Eton mess, Eugene decided, was one of the best things that had ever happened to him.

Jesse noticed Eugene watching him and involuntarily, it seemed, held his treat closer to him, as if he thought _that_ was what Eugene had any interest in stealing. Eugene made room for himself between Jesse’s thighs, which he hadn’t bothered to cover up at all. Jeans, Eugene guessed, weren’t sufficiently comfortable in Jesse’s mind for morning lounging. Eugene wasn’t complaining; Jesse looked great in perfectly tousled hair and the bare minimum of clothing.

“Don’t,” Jesse warned, Eugene’s hands on his thighs as he leaned in with a winning grin. “Eugene, I haven’t brushed my teeth yet, I’ll just taste like morning breath—,”

But Jesse didn’t even lean back to avoid Eugene’s kiss, and, when Eugene asked with a swipe of tongue against bottom lip, Jesse allowed him into his mouth easily and with a little hum of approval. Jesse tasted sweet, like strawberries and fancy cream. Eugene couldn’t get enough. Jesse had to have been of a similar mindset because he hooked his ankles behind Eugene’s back, effectively keeping him just where Jesse wanted him. It was convenient that it was just where Eugene wanted to be too.

“I’m going to catch so much shit for this,” Eugene said when they fell apart. Jesse got right back to eating his precious Eton mess, though he didn’t bother releasing Eugene from the trap of his stupidly and gorgeously long legs.

“For what?” Jesse asked innocently.

“For proving my smug friends right and failing to keep my hands to myself with you.”

Jesse smiled for him, taking his time with another bite.

“The staff here all think you’re a saint,” Jesse said as Eugene kissed his throat, which Eugene was sure Jesse had used to make an intentionally exaggerated swallow. “You’re the only boy I’ve ever brought twice, let alone however many times you’ve been here by now. They’ve been sure for months that we’re dating and you let me be a free spirit or whatever, having other boys over too. I could tell.”

“That’s funny,” Eugene kissed Jesse’s neck one more time, then pulled away. “Actually, that makes some sense,” he said. Thinking on it further, he did remember a lot of exchanges with the hotel staff that made perfect sense under that assumption. Jesse nodded sagely.

“They probably even think you’ve tamed me.”

“Tamed you?” Eugene echoed with some amusement. Jesse delicately scooped up the last of his breakfast and ate it, putting the empty cup aside and yawning, arms freed up and finding a home draped over Eugene’s shoulders.

“I haven’t had anyone over since Lars. You remember Lars—,”

“I remember Lars.”

“Well, since him, you were it. You were all I wanted so I stopped kidding myself with other guys. I’m sure the staff all noticed.”

“Good,” Eugene said, pleasantly surprised by the news. With a heave, Eugene plucked Jesse off the counter, ignoring his yelp of protest but not the way he clutched to Eugene, legs and arms both holding tighter. Eugene only took them so far as the couch before letting Jesse back down again, collapsing them both onto the couch. Jesse had to detangle his legs with a swat at Eugene’s arm for the inconvenience. “My friends and our buddies here at the hotel can all pat themselves on the back for being right.”

“I guess I have let you tame me, in a way,” Jesse admitted.

“As much as a handful like you could ever really be contained,” Eugene agreed, to which Jesse laughed. “And I guess it was inevitable that I’d be unable to resist you. It was stupid of me to think I could.”

“You know better now.”

“I do,” Eugene agreed, fully aware that he had no hope at all of keeping his hands to himself. Already, they were pulling Jesse against him and running up and down his back. Jesse settled against his chest and it was a long time before either of them felt inclined to speak again. Eugene watched the sun stream through the balcony’s glass doors, dousing Jesse in golden light. He thought it was entirely possible Jesse had dozed off again between the sun spot and back rubs, but he hadn’t.

“Where should we go, do you think, on our first date?” Jesse asked. “I was thinking we ought to visit our fountain, of course, but the mall hasn’t got much else going for it in the way of romance, does it?”

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re already planning that all.” Eugene hadn’t thought of any of the specifics of this yet, hadn’t been worried at all about things like where to go on dates. “I’ll leave it up to you to decide, I’m happy with anything. I’ll like you just the same in a food court as I would in a five-star restaurant.”

“We’re _not_ going to a food court.”

“Maybe not on the first date but you realize dating is just, like, advanced hanging out, right? We’ll do tons of unromantic things together.”

“Fine, but the first date has to be perfect,” Jesse insisted.

“Okay.” Eugene could tell this was important to Jesse so he tried to care more about the specifics than he was naturally prone to. “What about a picnic? There’s that garden next to the mall, we could go there. Bet it’d be really romantic at twilight. Then we could go to the fountain for the light shows they do in the evenings.”

“Where would we get the food from?”

“I’d make it.”

“We’d need real food, not just desserts.”

Eugene was so shocked by the assumption behind that statement that it was a stunned beat of silence before he could even laugh. But when he got to it, his entire body convulsed with the laughter, disrupting Jesse’s position on top of him.

“Fucking hell, Jess, dude, I like _cooking_ —like, real actual cooking with real, actual food and stuff. _That’s_ my preferred set of skills in the kitchen. I only got into baking for you. Do you not remember me complaining about knowing how to make Eton mess the first time we were both at our fountain?”

Jesse propped himself up to look at Eugene, as stunned by this as Eugene had been to be accused of only knowing how to make sweet treats.

“You can cook?”

“I’m pretty good at it, too.”

“And you don’t even like baking?”

“Not that much. Mostly, I just like you.”

“But…but that’s all this has been. This whole time, since the very start—and you don’t even _like_ it?”

“You can see why all my friends thought I’d either lost my mind or had my heart stolen since the start. But I _do_ like it. I like baking for you even if I didn’t ever have an interest in that before. I’d like to cook for you sometime, too, though. What do you think? Garden picnic and fountain lights?”

Jesse nodded, catching Eugene’s face to plant a kiss on him even as he expressed his enthusiasm for the idea.

“That sounds perfect,” Jesse said, finally getting a whole sentence together. “I’ve never really been on a proper date before.”

And there it was. The reason behind this date’s importance to Jesse. It didn’t take a genius to thread together why. But Jesse told him anyway, and Eugene was glad to have the sort of trust Jesse had in him to share as openly as he did.

“I didn’t date after Dad found out about me. I mean, I didn’t date before then, either, but only because there wasn’t really a chance for it. There was this boy, I told you about him before, but he was in my class in middle school and I liked him and we kind of flirted in the way middle schoolers do, you know? We couldn’t drive then, obviously, and it seemed easier to just…have him over one day after school. We played some video game his parents wouldn’t let him play at home—I remember that because I only got the game so I could play it and then mention casually that I had it and he should come over sometime to play and he did and then after that, I got what I’d wanted but Dad came home early and that was the end of that. Dating didn’t feel right after that. I don’t know why. But it just felt easier to do things this way, keep them confined to hotel rooms and single nights. So I guess I’m a little over-excited about the whole dating thing,” Jesse finished, laughing awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Not for this or any of the ways you feel, okay? I’m pumped about dating you, too, and I’m not sorry at all for it or for liking you. You shouldn’t feel like you’ve got to hide who you are, not ever. And I’m just sorry that you do.”

Jesse shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”

“You deserve better. I wish—maybe it’s not my place to say this but your dad’s wrong to make you feel like you’re not enough and he’s wrong to make you feel like he isn’t capable of loving you for everything that you are.”

Eugene had been ready for a rebuke but Jesse snuggled back into his chest with a sigh, not seeming all that mad.

“I don’t know if you remember, but Dad wanted me to come home that weekend when we fought.”

“I remember,” Eugene said. It was still the most recent conversation in his _Spoiled Brat_ log. The log he’d changed to _Exton Mess_ this morning.

“I ended up having to go home anyway. Dad came to get me from here Saturday morning.”

“From _here?”_

“Yeah. I’m a minor so I always check-in under his name and with his card. I guess he has noticed it after all. But that’s not the point. It turns out he accidentally told Mom about me—,”

“She didn’t know already?” Eugene asked, surprised by that. Jesse had always seemed to have a close and easy relationship with his mom, unwrought with the troubles of his relationship with Robert.

“No. Dad hated it so much that I didn’t want to risk it with Mom too. I never came out to her but I guess Dad didn’t know that.”

“So your mom told your dad to get his ass in shape or she’d kick it to Timbuktu, right?”

“In so many words,” Jesse said. “She was furious at him, you’d have liked to see it.”

“I’m sure I would have.”

“She stuck us both in therapy.”

“No shit?”

“I know,” Jesse laughed. “But it’s helped, I think.”

“Good. That’s really good, Jess.” Eugene took a moment to hug Jesse and Jesse allowed it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be there for you for that,” he added after a while. “But I’m really happy for you. Proud of you, too. That’s a hell of a stride from where you were with your dad even a month ago.”

“Yeah. I think we’ll be okay.”

After that, neither of them felt much like getting up. Eugene groped blindly for the coffee table, Jesse unwilling even to move enough for Eugene to get the remote with any sort of ease. The show he put on was more for white noise than for something to pay attention to. Eugene found that his attention was pretty set on drifting back to Jesse no matter what. His even and relaxed breathing, his logic-defying hair that had only needed one toss of the head to fall into perfect style, the dip in his back that Eugene’s hand fit so perfectly in, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse.

 _Shit, I’m going to be as bad as Nick and Seiji, aren’t I?_ Eugene realized as his thoughts filled with nothing but the boyfriend he hadn’t even had a full day.

Jesse rolled off Eugene as morning bled into afternoon, stretching as if only just now waking up.

“I think I should probably get dressed,” he said. Eugene disagreed.

“Let’s think this through before we make any rash decisions,” Eugene replied, standing as well, feeling weirdly light for Jesse’s missing weight on him. Jesse threw his head back in a laugh, delighted, Eugene was sure, to be so transparently coveted. When he turned toward the room to ready himself for the day, Eugene admired the view.

“Take a picture,” Jesse said smugly over a shoulder, “it’ll last longer.”

“Don’t tempt me, I might.” Eugene finally tore his eyes away from Jesse, scanning over the room. He was pretty sure this was the exact one they’d come to last time too. Jesse had his favorite suites. “Hey,” Eugene said, eyes snagging on the top of a chair he remembered discarding all sorts of sweaters, jackets, and blazers on, “is there any chance I can get my school sweater back?”

Jesse froze in his tracks, stiff and guilty.

“No.”

“So you threw it out, then, huh?”

“What? No! I didn’t.”

“Then…you’ve still got it?”

“It’s in my room at Exton.”

“So, my sweet Exton Mess, can I pretty please have it back? It’s my favorite one.” Eugene wasn’t sure if he was insane, but he swore the fabric they’d used for the sweaters issued last year was softer than those they’d gotten this year. Mom said it was because he needed to wear in the new one more but Eugene didn’t see the point in that when he had one that was already perfectly comfy.

“I’d have given it back if I could have gotten in touch with you,” Jesse said, turning back to Eugene and not actually answering the question.

“Thanks for keeping it safe even though I’m an asshole and accidentally let my friend block you. I’m impressed you didn’t leave it to be taken out with the trash.”

“Like I’d ever do that,” Jesse scowled. And that’s when Eugene noticed the pink invading Jesse’s face.

“I don’t suppose you decided to keep it warm for me?” Eugene teased. Bingo. The floodgates had opened and Jesse lit up redder than the strawberries he loved so much.

“So what if I did?” He snapped. “Dad always turns up the AC in the car way too high and I was cold and so what if it made me feel better to wear it when he and Mom made all their promises to be better? I was sure, the way Dad was acting that whole drive, that someone had died or he was finally kicking me out—it was scary, Eugene.”

Eugene had missed his sweater but he was glad now that he’d forgotten it here if it had been able to help Jesse in any small way. Eugene doubted that was the only time Jesse had pulled it on. He let himself indulge in picturing Jesse in his sweater, let himself imagine when and why Jesse might have felt like wearing it.

“Your parents probably thought you had a boyfriend from Kings Row,” he barked a laugh when he realized it, seeing Jesse in the navy blue fabric with the Kings Row crest emblazoned on the chest in his mind’s eye.

“Probably.”

Eugene thought that had been brave of Jesse, too, to not correct or care about that assumption.

“I guess they’re right. You do have a boyfriend from Kings Row.”

“That’s right.”

“A very generous one,” Eugene said, crossing the distance to where Jesse stood and slipping arms around his middle, pulling him in, “who lets you wear his favorite sweater whenever you want.”

Jesse smiled, satisfied with that compromise.

“I guess you can have it back for a while,” he told Eugene magnanimously, “it doesn’t smell like you anymore anyway, but I want it back again after you fix that.”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Eugene agreed, hand sneaking up the back of Jesse’s simple t-shirt to press into that dip of spine that was basically made for his hand. Jesse was eager for the touch, falling against Eugene’s mouth as if he’d been starved of it for more than a short pile of hours. As Eugene kissed Jesse deeply enough to earn a moan, he wasn’t convinced at all that Jesse would be needing the rest of his clothes any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is an unnecessary and self-indulgent epilogue that I debated hard on including but then realized this is fanfiction so it’s all unnecessary and self-indulgent. I can’t just NOT try to fix things, you know? Jesse deserves better. I know therapy can't solve everything and sometimes parents are such shit that you've got to cut them out, but that would have hurt Jesse too bad for me to make him do it so in my made-up fantasy land, Robert's gonna put in the effort to be better the way any parent honestly should. And also it would have bugged me as a reader to not get closure on Eugene's sweater because I have strange priorities lmao
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I know this fic is ridiculous because it grew out of a gag in the first fic in this series but I had a fun time with it and it's really blown me away that you guys seem to have had fun with it too! I love you all and thanks again 💜


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